


I Crave You in the Dark

by Galaticx



Series: Collecting Names of the Lives That Went Wrong [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smoking, Trans Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vincent has Anxiety/PTSD, im trans and i control the trans headcanons!!, please tell me if I missed any tags, this story is very long and took me days to write so im bound to have forgotten something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 35,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26725573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galaticx/pseuds/Galaticx
Summary: Modern/Reincarnation AU; Vincent Valentine has many strange hauntings and occurrences around him, and it’s been this way as long as he’s known. Such happenstances make it difficult for him to form connections, even more so lasting ones. For much too long he’s been alone, no one but his adoptive brother and his dog by his side. Finally, someone seeks to change that.Alternatively, Cid teaches Vincent it’s okay to feel.
Relationships: Background Genesis Rhaspsodos/Angeal Hewley, Background Rufus Shinra/Tseng - Relationship, Cid Highwind/Vincent Valentine, Past Cid Highwind/Shera
Series: Collecting Names of the Lives That Went Wrong [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944673
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	1. Aren't We All Just in the In-Between?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple notes before we start!
> 
> Disclaimer that, I, a trans man, am using a headcanon of Vincent being genderfluid. I use terminology to describe what's both above and under the belt that may make some of my trans friends uncomfortable, so if you don't like that, thank you for checking this out my story! He is also always referred to by masculine pronouns (he/him/his) to avoid confusion between scenes. At no point is he referred to by pronouns or terms that make him uncomfortable.
> 
> This is also part of a set universe, in which Sephiroth was adopted by the Valentine family at a young age. This fic is set two full years before the first installment, meaning Seph is 21, Vincent is 25, and Cid should be 24, if I'm recalling my own timeline correctly.
> 
> Also, please don't smoke kids! And drink responsibly!

It’s always been a strange sort of affair.

For all his life, Vincent has chosen to live in the night, earning him many a comparison to creatures of myth and legends, vampires, and other such beings. His sleep comes in brief cycles, often either short and dreamless, or shorter and plagued by ghosts of memories he knows he _shouldn’t_ have, memories that line up in no correct manner to the life he’s led thus far. Pain of a foreign, unknown energy coursing through his deep, thin veins, pushing like a scourge upon his very being. After losing his left arm, at the young age of fifteen, he’d come to recognize what that pain was, why it left a bitter taste of longing loathe in the back of his throat.

It was phantom pain, a hurt from something he no longer had.

Akin to that of the aching he felt in his missing arm, gone from the elbow down, this surging scourge lingered long after its presence truly existed. Overstaying its welcome for much too long, Vincent has come to hate it, and, strangely, yearn for it.

At the very least, when he feels it’s pain, he knows that he’s still capable of feeling something other than sadness and despair.

An evening like many others in the city of Midgar, mid-autumn, with brisk, chilled air that grabs and whisks his hair, turning the locks to ebony tendrils, and dim streetlights, this evening is nothing special, especially as Vincent’s heels click against the mostly-abandoned sidewalk, and his dog’s collar tags clink against his vest. Leash clutched into his one hand, he all but steadies himself against the shepherd’s burly frame, the dog reaching nearly his hip level, nearly every time someone passes him by. A few curious looks are shot his way, though to his mind they feel much more demanding in their silent inquiries than he knows they truly are, but he keeps his own crimson gaze fixed on the path before him.

Chaos waits patiently as he opens the gate to the dog park, which is nearly devoid of life, but as soon as the shepherd is released from his leash, he bounds a short distance away, barking with glee. Vincent can’t bite back the smile that comes to his lips. Such few things bring him joy, so he allows himself it with no argument against himself.

His phone buzzes in his coat’s front pocket, set against the left side of his chest, and, with gloved fingers, he wiggles the device free, knowing immediately who it has to be. Quickly, the call is accepted, and he brings the phone to his ear.

“Sephiroth,” all but whispering, he says into the microphone, watching as his dog takes to another goer to the park. Chaos sniffs the small bundle of fur up and down, before gently pawing the dirt before the round pup. “Is everything alright? You don’t usually call until later.”

Across the line, he hears the younger man sigh, and then lean back into whatever chair he’s settled in, leather creaking softly beneath his weight. “Fine enough. Something minor has come up in plans.”

“Is that so?” Chaos plops into the dirt, tail thrashing against grass clumps, and gently nuzzles against the diminutive dog, who returns it before bouncing off, yapping.

“Rufus desperately wants me to accompany him to a party tomorrow evening, claiming that it will be _too boring_ without me. I’m sure you see the issue with this,”

“Tomorrow is our evening to have dinner. It’s quite alright, Sephiroth, you can go. We meet every week.”

He knows the silver-haired man too well, envisioning the distasteful grimace on his lips at the words, thin brows drawn close. “I don’t want to cancel on you, Vincent,” he knows all too well that he worries about him, always concerned he’s doing alright, “so will you come along with us? I know parties aren’t much your scene, but perhaps it’ll do you good to get social interaction outside of myself and the dog.”

Vincent mimics the grimace he knows is settled onto his adoptive brother’s face, and sinks slightly on the park bench, crossing leg over the other, ankle above one knee. “I… suppose it’ll give me an excuse to wear something nice for a change.” He hears his dog bark, and glances over his shoulder to find he’s gathered himself a new friend alongside the pup. They’re playing, bowing to one another with exaggerated movements, and, when the pup takes a light swat at Chaos’s nose, he rolls himself over, belly up. A few benches away, the pup’s owner laughs at the scene, before going to stand, leash in hand.

“If you get too overwhelmed, we can leave. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Rufus will understand, or, at least, I can make him.”

Watching as the puppy’s human leashes the little dog, Vincent hears Chaos whine at the loss of his friend, the second dog having left at their approach, though the other person holds one hand out for the shepherd to sniff, and then gently pets the black fur atop his head. “Thank you, Sephiroth. I presume you’ll be picking me up?”

“Yes, at five in the evening.”

“Very well,” he stands before whistling for his dog to come, the puppy’s owner watching as he bounds away. There’s an attempt made to ignore the way their eyes widen when they land on his left sleeve, bundled, and tied up beneath the remains of his arm. It’s a very futile attempt. Holding his phone between his head and shoulder, he clips the leash into place on Chaos’s vest, and is quick to leave. People like to ask questions, questions he doesn’t care to answer. “I’ll see you then, little brother.”

Sephiroth nearly chokes on whatever he’d previously had to say in surprise, replacing it instead with a simple “ _bastard_ ,” and Vincent smiles dimly to himself. “You’re only four years older. Stop being pretentious.”

“I love you as well, dear brother.”

As per his usual, Vincent falls asleep to the sunrise, bundled under too many covers, his dog at his back. Atop his dresser is a small tv monitor, quietly playing old episodes of a black-and-white show, streaming from an app. _There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man_ , he hears, body relaxing to the familiarity of it, and Chaos licks gently at his exposed shoulder.

“Good boy,” the man praises, worming his hand from beneath the covers, scratching long nails over a black muzzle. When his consciousness begins to falter at last, he feels the bed dip at one side as the dog shifts to leap down, his tags gently clinking as he disappears through the open door.

It’s a tiny apartment, one bed, one bath, combined kitchen, dining, and living space, but it’s plenty for him and Chaos. Tucked into the corner of the living room is a metal kennel for the shepherd, a plush bed placed inside, and a few toys settled beside it.

Crimson eyes falter to a close one last time, unwilling to reopen for the next few hours, and Vincent finally slips into a slumber. What shall it be this time? Restful or restless? For what feels like the thousandth time in his life, he finds himself pleading that it will be resolute, blank sleep.

_Weightless._

_Vincent feels weightless. Floating amidst a conglomerate of fluids, glowing bright shades of green and blue, and feeling very much like something both on display and firmly tucked into the recess of a forgotten hollow, he very much despises all of this. A clatter from outside the tank of fluids he’s forced to reside in catches his attention, eyes opening, and a pale, crimson flame exuding from them and across his cheeks._

_Past the glass, in the dim, glowing light of the room, he makes out a moving figure of a man, shifting through papers as he steadies a box beneath one arm. Anger flares up in his chest at the sight of the man’s face, round-frame glasses hanging low on the bridge of his nose._

_Meeting red eyes, the man’s face splits into a wide grin that makes Vincent’s insides twist, fear and rage combining into a nasty conglomerate. Batting the end of his pen against the glass, the man opens his mouth to speak. “You must be restless in there! Don’t worry, you’ll be out again soon enough.”_

_His words are muffled and distorted, but the message conveys clearly to him, and Vincent feels a sense of panic push past the anger and despair, rising up his throat though he bites his own tongue to hold it back. Hojo presses a button on the side of the tube he’s suspended in._

_Sleep overtakes him._

When crimson eyes reopen, finally, hours after they’d last closed, there’s a dread in his core that he’s going to awaken to find himself somewhere that isn’t his own bed. They, instead, meet the tv screen, _are you still watching?_ sprawled across the black background. Groaning, Vincent rolls onto his back, arms outstretched, though the remains of his left brush against coarse fur.

Hissing at the sensation against the scarring, he recoils, though, when Chaos shuffles around in a circle and applies his cold nose to the location, lapping softly, the man sighs and places his thin hand behind pointed ears. “Thank you,” properly grounded to reality once more, Vincent goes to reach for his phone, discarded to the nightstand, and scrolls through notifications.

Though there’s nothing unusual about Sephiroth texting him during his sleep, he finds the number of messages a bit worrisome. He finds that there’s seven new messages from him, the first few reading off as mere throwaway rants, which, again, is typical of the silver-haired man, but the last three are a picture of formalwear, accompanied by _what do you think? Wear something matching?_

Vincent rolls his eyes and sits up in bed, placing his bare feet to the carpeted floor. Chaos shifts, perking up with interest as the man goes to slide open the bottom few drawers of his dresser. Sorting through the contents, he sets aside a various shirts and pants, nearly all of which are black or a dark shade of red, and, once content, slides the drawers shut with his foot. Turning around, he places the outfits down onto the comforter.

“What do you think, boy?”

Really, they’re not all that different. Each set has black pants, though some cling tighter than others, but the shirts range from black to various reds and there’s a few white shirts meant to be worn beneath other layers. “Should I match Seph?” He asks, pointing at one of the pure black sets, “or should there be a bit more color?”

Chaos rubs his nose against a red shirt, sniffing at it, before turning his attention to the set that’d been pointed to, pawing it. Vincent offers him a smile and leans down to pet him, a gentle kiss placed to soft fur. Retrieving his phone, he sends a text to the silver-haired man, _Chaos seems to think we should match_. Once he hits send, the phone is placed atop the dresser and he goes to put the other clothes away.

With one, short bark, the dog hops down from the bed and wanders into the kitchen, sitting before the mat on the floor on which his bowls are sat on, expectant. It takes a few moments for the man to emerge from the room, groggily running one hand over his brow. It’s not even close to sundown yet, the clock reading as half past three. He keeps the dog’s food on a chair against the wall, taken from the unused dining table, so that it’s easy for him to access but out of Chaos’s immediate reach. Not that he worries about his dog trying to get into it, but better safe than sorry.

A scoop of food is placed in the empty bowl, but the shepherd eyes it with scrutiny before turning his gold eyes up to the ebony-haired man. Arching one brow in return, he watches as his dog whines at the bowl, and then rolls his eyes. “Spoiled.” Vincent grumbles as he retrieves a can of wet food from the cabinet, popping the lid open after a moment of struggle, and then spoons it alongside the kibble.

Chaos wags his tail and digs in, then.

Scoffing, he puts the half-eaten can into the fridge, the rest can be used for dinner. As he heads for the bathroom, he starts to undo his pants, climbing out of them and tossing the dirty clothes aside. A shower seems to be in good order, especially considering he has somewhere to be, _what if you fuck it up, what if you make an absolute fool of yourself and Sephiroth, in front of a bunch of suits, and he can never even think about showing his face in Midgar again,_ Vincent shakes his head clear as he turns the faucet on and slides out of his underwear. As the water heats, he grabs a towel, setting it on the counter, before stepping in.

Washing his hair takes the longest portion of the shower’s time, long and full as it is, but eventually it’s handled sufficiently. Once he’s decided that there’s no trace of shampoo left in his hair, he pushes back the shower curtain, finding Chaos waiting there for him on the other side, his tail wagging as he catches sight of the man. Stepping onto the rug by the side of the tub, he dries his hands on the towel before reaching down to pet the shepherd and then pushing past him to finish getting ready.

By the time Sephiroth knocks on his apartment door, his distinct rapping against wood the telltale sign of his arrival, Vincent’s hair is still drying and he’s in the middle of buttoning up his shirt. His brother unlocks the door on his own volition, knowing that he’d be standing out in the cold for much too long should he wait for a response. “Chaos,” he hears the younger Valentine say, accompanied by the crinkling of the treat bag, “good boy.”

“You spoil him too much,” says the raven as he steps from his room, finding his brother crouched in front of the dog, handing him a treat, “or perhaps you’re trying to bribe him?”

Sephiroth stands, resealing the bag and setting it aside. “He takes good care of you, of course I spoil him.” With quiet steps, he crosses to the doorway, shooing his brother’s hand from the buttons so that he may do it himself. “Remember, if you get too overwhelmed, we can leave. Rufus can’t tell us no to your face.”

Vincent nods, and then the silver-haired man secures his left sleeve so that it isn’t dangling to get caught in or on anything. “I… should be fine as long as I have Chaos. Speaking of,” he turns to the dog, sitting patiently by the front door, “can you get his vest on? I have to find my coat.”

As expected, it’s in the otherwise unused closet in his bedroom, hanging up from the closet’s rod, and he takes it down. He’s happier than he’d care to admit, finally have an excuse to wear his favorite jacket, finding it a bit too much for everyday usage. But, as he shrugs the red-leather jacket over his right shoulder, and then threads his left arm through the other sleeve, he finds himself smiling briefly at the mirror attached to the closet door.

“I swear to the gods, if anyone mistakes you for my boyfriend again,” Sephiroth starts once he returns to the living room, seeing that the dog has been properly harnessed and leashed, “blood will be shed.”

Vincent can’t hide the laugh rising from his core. “I imagine it will be. Just make sure to introduce me before anyone can make the guess, I suppose.”

“Should I just walk in and announce, _hello everyone, I am Sephiroth and this is my brother, Vincent,_ ”

“ _Please do not mistake us as boyfriends, fiancés, or any such relations, or I shall ruin your careers,_ ”

Sephiroth laughs in return, and passes the leash off to his brother. “My car is parked right out front. Do you have everything?” Green eyes watch as his brother pats himself down, checking for his phone, wallet, and keys. A simple nod is his answer once he finds everything is in proper arrangement. “Very good. To the car, then.”

When the pull up to the party venue, droves of other people arriving as well, Vincent immediately feels his anxiety spike. Cameras flash at various people as they pass, though many of them focus on a pale-blonde-haired man as he steps from a sleek black sports car, twirling keys in his fingers. He stops for the cameras, lowering his sunglasses as he does so.

Chaos whines, placing his chin against his knee. Long nails settle in the coarse fur behind his ears, running in circular patterns. “You hadn’t mentioned it’d be so _busy_ , Seph.”

“My apologies,” his brother says as he pulls into a parking space, though leaves the engine on, “should we go?”

Vincent gives it a moment’s thought.

_Panic in his veins, light in his eyes, he’s stunned and frozen in place-_

His dog laps at his forearm, concern in those smart gold eyes. “And have made you get all done up for nothing? No. At the very least, I can give this a try. Who knows? Perhaps I will settle into it.”

Sephiroth gives him an appreciative sort of smile, though there’s still worry in his cat-green eyes, sunlight catching in them as it sets across from him. He’s soon to switch the engine off, and then opens his door, climbing out. Quickly enough to avoid the camera’s prying eyes for the time being, he opens his brother’s door, taking the leash from him so that he can step out from the car. Once Chaos is handed back to his proper owner, the silver-haired man hits a button on his keys, locking the doors.

“Keep your head down if you need. I’ll get us through the crowds quickly enough.” Sephiroth leads him towards the front doors, though it’s not long before the cameras turn to him, the blonde from before having excused himself. They descend upon him quickly enough.

“Do you deal with this often?” Vincent isn’t much shorter than his brother, but he still has to lean up slightly as he whispers it into his ear.

A modest shrug accompanies his answer. “Often enough.”

Lights flash into his sensitive eyes, and he goes to shield them as best he can still holding the leash. Chaos, for what it’s worth, looks the least bothered out of the three of them, though Sephiroth is certainly taking it in stride in his own right. _Mister Valentine, who is your guest_ and _Mister Valentine, do you have a moment_ are among the questions Vincent can make out, and his brother answers them briefly, though he certainly picks and chooses. He keeps a firm hand on the raven’s back, settled beneath his ebony hair, as he guides him towards the venue doors.

Sephiroth opens one door for him, “I’ll join in one moment,” and ushers him inside, away from prying eyes and heated lights. Vincent lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and his dog gently sits down in front of him, holding up one paw. Smiling down at him, he leans to accept it, feeling all the calmer from the familiar trained action.

Inside the party hall, it is significantly quieter, though there’s still the soft drone of chatter as other attendees chat amongst themselves. He sees the blonde from before, a glass already in hand, as he makes his way from group to group, mingling as if it were the whole reason behind his existence.

As much as he hated to admit it, he could feel other goers begin to settle their attentions on him, heard a few muttered whispers of _who’s that_ and _how’d they get in?_ Though, once his brother emerges from behind the doors, and gently leads him away, the mutterings cease. Clearly, they know better than to mess with Sephiroth, especially at such a clearly publicized event.

“Rufus,” the silver-haired man calls from a few feet away, and the pale-blonde turns around to peer over his shoulder before his eyes lighten up in recognition, “we made it.”

“Sephiroth! I’m so glad!” This _Rufus_ fellow downs his drink, and sets it down on the platter of a passing server. They exchange a brief handshake before blue eyes turn in the raven’s direction, and Rufus ducks into a bow, before politely taking his hand, placing a kiss to the knuckles. “And who might this be? Surely this cannot be your _older_ brother.”

A scowl settles onto pale lips, but Vincent recognizes it as a ruse, meant to fluster the blonde. “Don’t be so _coy_ , now, Rufus, it doesn’t suit you in the slightest.” When blue eyes are rolled in return, he knows the ploy had failed. “Yes, this is Vincent, my adoptive brother. You’d best be kind to him, and ensure everyone else does the same.”

“I’m not a child, Sephiroth.” Vincent says, rolling his eyes as well. “No one has to mother me, or walk on eggshells in my presence.”

Momentarily, the silver-haired man does truly seem to rethink his actions, and, instead, steps back so that his hand is no longer resting against the red-leather of his brother’s jacket. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He moves to stand by Rufus’s side instead, “if you need anything, you can find me.”

Vincent surmises that about a quarter of an hour, to maybe twenty minutes have passed since his brother, accompanied by his friend, had slipped into the crowds, buzzing about like bees in spring, the throngs of people their flowers. He’s since settled into a seat, now jacket-less thanks to a coat checker, far enough from everyone that it’s clear he doesn’t wish to speak, yet close enough he can keep tabs on the duo. Rufus tries to pass a drink into his brother’s hands at one point, but Sephiroth refuses.

“Hey, pardon,” someone says to him as heavy, booted steps approach him. Looking up from where his dog rests at his feet, he locks eyes with a man who certainly looks more than out of place. He’s dressed in a suit, sure, but he’s got a fleece-lined coat and combat boots on, a strange combination with the rest of his outfit, and, unlike everyone else attending, his blonde hair is messy, and he has a rugged beginnings of a beard on his jawline. Dog tags glint from where the top few buttons of his shirt has been undone, and there’s a bandage on the side of his left brow. “You seen Rufus anywhere?”

When he turns back to where he’d last seen the two of them, they’re gone from his line of sight. “I had,” crimson eyes flitter between various attendees, though they remain out of sight, “but he seems to have disappeared.”

“Ah, shit. Mind if I sit here with you? See if I can’t catch sight of him? Sure it’d be easier than tryin’ to push through the crowd.”

Vincent slides slightly to his right, opening space on the small bench in a silent invitation. Chaos perks up his head at the movement, and the man’s eyes widen in surprise at the dog, clearly having missed him in his approach.

“Uh, thanks,” the man takes a seat, and he immediately catches the scent of smoke on him. “Name’s Cid,” he offers, before holding out his left hand, “Cid Highwind. I’ve been driving Rufus around lately.”

“Other hand,” Vincent says, face deadpan.

“Huh?”

“Hold out your other hand.”

Cid does as told, though confused about the whole affair, and then the raven takes it, sliding the leash’s loop around his wrist as he does so. “Vincent Valentine. I’m Sephiroth’s brother.” The other man’s grip is strong, but he’s quick to let go.

They fall into a momentary silence before Cid suddenly lights up in realization. “Wait, _you’re_ Sephiroth’s brother? I was expecting, uh, actually, I’m not quite sure. Someone who looked more like him, at least.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” He says in return as Chaos sits up, moving to settle between him and the newcomer, head resting on the raven’s knee. “He’s adopted. We’re not blood, but we’re family all the same.”

Cid nods in understanding before he leans back against the backrest. Blue eyes settle on the dog’s vest, reading the blatant _SERVICE DOG_ scrawled across the sides. “And this guy? What’s their name?”

Vincent rubs his thumb over the soft fur of the shepherd’s muzzle, wiping away a stray thread he’d managed to collect from someplace. “This is Chaos.”

“Rather interestin’ name choice for a service dog, but, hey, I like it.” When golden eyes turn to the blonde, the dog’s tail thumps against the tiled floor, seemingly recognizing the compliment. “Smart dog. May I…”

“Perhaps later. Apologies, but he’s on duty, so to speak.”

“Nah, gotcha,” Cid intertwines his fingers together, folding his hands into his lap. Eventually, he catches sight of Rufus in the crowd, taking Sephiroth by the hand as he leads him towards the bench their own duo is settled on. Moving to stand, the blonde fishes something from his pocket, the movement nearly making Vincent flinch away from him, and holds it out to the approaching man. “Your phone, you left it in the car.”

Rufus takes it, grateful, and stashes it into his pants pocket. “Thank you, Cid,” duty fulfilled, the driver goes to leave, but his employer cuts him off, “hey, why don’t you stay? I’m sure it’s plenty more interesting in here.”

“If you’re sure… sounds pretty good. Plus, then I ain’t gotta fight my way back through the paparazzi.”

“A monster all their own, hm?” Rufus says, but whatever he’d had to follow is quickly forgotten as the band takes to their mics, one of the members announcing themselves amongst other things. “The band! Sephi, come, I need you to play wingman for me.”

There’s no chance for the silver-haired man to respond, instead, throwing an apologetic look over his shoulder at his brother before he’s dragged off into the crowd once again. Vincent can’t help but let out one short chuckle, waving the younger man off.

It falls back into a comfortable silence, then, among the three of them, only the music, the sound of dancing, and Chaos’s soft panting between them. Cid retakes his seat, watching as the crowds line up into circular rings, dancing amidst themselves. It seems the first few songs of the night are slow dances, so at least there’s a moment’s respite from the wild, well, chaos from anything else.

“You’re not gonna dance?” He eventually asks, receiving a perplexed sort of look in return from the raven by his side.

Vincent arches one brow at him, crimson eyes narrowing as he gives the question thought. “Do you truly think I can? I’m missing an arm, and-”

The blonde rises to his feet once again, and takes the ebony-haired man by his hand, pulling him along with. “Hands got nothin’ to do with it. Just have to move your feet, see?” Cid puts Vincent’s slender hand just above his waist, mindful of the dog’s leash, and does the same with his own hands.

For what it’s worth, Vincent realizes that this is likely just a friendly sort of thing, that someone like Cid, who is clearly outgoing, would find no issue with such matters, but that doesn’t stop the panic in the center of his being and the heavy beating of his heart. Gently, he’s led through a simple sort of dance, just stepping their feet in a pattern while staying in relatively one spot, but-

With a fervor he didn’t know he could manage, Vincent jumps back from the light grip to his torso, Chaos following, unbothered by the sudden movement. His heart is an army of a thousand marching soldiers, dressed from head to toe in heavy steel, so clamorous and heavy he fears it may lurch from his very being. His chest hurts, his head spins, crimson eyes settle on the startled face of the blonde, and, unconsciously, takes a few more steps back.

A soft whine breaks him mostly from his stupor, and he looks down to find his dog sitting by his feet, one paw in the air, waiting. Once, twice, three times, he takes deep breaths to steady himself, and crouches down before the shepherd, holding out his own palm. When the rough pads of Chaos’s paw meets his bare palm, he feels some sense of reality collide back into him.

“I’m… sorry.” Vincent says, rubbing his thumb over the dark brown fur of his dog’s ankle.

Cid shakes his head, and comes to crouch down in the raven’s line of sight. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I pushed you out of your comfort zone, huh? _I’m_ sorry.”

Quietly, the blonde holds one hand out for the other man to take, and once it is, although slowly, he hefts the taller man to his feet, surprised by how light he is. He guides him to the bench, and sits back by his side. The song changes.

“I can forget how intense I can come off, sometimes.” Settling down into the bench’s cushion, with a larger space between them than before, the man slides one hand into his pocket, extracting a pack of cigarettes. Vincent feels like it’s a mile that’s been made between them, and tries to ignore the way his chest aches. Ultimately, he decides to chalk up the feeling as a mere side effect of his earlier dreaming. Such dreams always left his chest feeling particularly hollow.

Leaning back, he sighs softly, threading his fingers through the loop at the top of Chaos’s leash, making absentminded knots he easily undoes. “I’ve merely… been overwhelmed this whole night thus far. I appreciate the effort, however, Mister Highwind,”

“Hey, don’t give me all that formal shit. We’re both just people.” Cid pops the lid back from his metal cigarette container, and slips one free, placing it at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll be back,” rising to stand, he hesitates for a moment, before turning blue eyes down to the pale-skinned man, “unless you wanna join? Get some fresh air?”

Vincent’s eyes go ever-so-slightly wide at the offer, crimson glancing up in a swift motion soon after, and, when they meet blue, their gazes hold steady for a few fractions of a second before he nods, curtly, and gets to his feet. There’s the sensation of green eyes on his back as he walks after the blonde, causing him to peer over his shoulder to find his brother watching him with a curious sort of look on his face. Sephiroth merely nods and waves a hand dismissively, before turning his attentions back to a small group of individuals his age, Rufus still by his side like they were conjoined at the hip. A man with red hair throws his head back with a boisterous bout of laughter, clearly at something he’d said himself, but a black-haired man at his side goes to hide a brief smile behind his glass. He swears Rufus swoons right then, but cares to no longer watch once the brisk autumn air hits him, Cid opening a pair of double doors out to a balcony.

Fenced in on all sides, with not even enough space for the dog to push his head through the railings, Vincent unhinges Chaos’s leash from the back of his vest. He near immediately goes to sniff around as Cid reaches back into his pocket to gather his lighter, having to remove his pack of cigarettes once again to get it into his hand. It’s rather unexpected for the blonde when the raven reaches his hand in his direction, palm open, but he deposits one cigarette into his waiting hand.

“Didn’t expect you to smoke,” muttering, Cid lights his own, and then holds the lighter out. Setting the cigarette to his lips, the raven leans in, catching the flame against the end of it. As he pulls away, Cid can’t help but notice the way his ruby eyes reflect the flame, like a gem-encased hearth.

“Rarely,” Vincent replies, taking a slow drag, “though old habits die hard, I suppose.”

Usually, such actions were saved for markedly rough bouts of loathing directed towards himself, a particularly less noticeable and visual form of self-inflicted wounds, though he supposed there was little issue with it at the moment. At the very least, it was something to focus on, drawing his attentions from the panic still sitting at the bottom of his ribcage.

When he exhales, smoke mingling with the wisps of his own breath on the cold air, he says quietly, “just don’t tell my brother. He’d have my remaining hand.”

Cid snorts, leaning against the railing so that the small of his back met the white-stained wood, facing the taller man with a smile that tugs the cigarette upwards. “Sounds like a character, that brother of yours. I’ve only ever heard mutterin’s and hushed rumors. Hadn’t expected all these business types and suits to be scared of a kid.”

“He’s twenty-one,” Vincent immediately defends, he’s the only one who can pick on his brother, after all, “but Sephiroth has always been known for his… strong personality.”

“I’d bet your parents are all the fiercer, raising two kids like you.”

“Actually, our father was the peacekeeper of the family. Polite man,” Chaos is wagging his tail as he watches through the glass panes of the door, practically wriggling in place as he watches the dancing start up once again. “I fear Sephiroth may have adopted most of his tendencies from me. He was such a well-behaved child. And what of your parents,” he catches the formalities of a _Mister Highwind_ rising on his tongue, but manages to push that away, “Cid?”

By the way the man shrugs one shoulder, blue eyes unwavering, Vincent feels as if he managed to avoid striking a nerve. Good. So family is an acceptable topic for conversation. “Generally unremarkable people, gotta say. Ma’s a tough woman, definitely whipped us into shape, and my pa was an engineer from Cosmo Canyon. Kinda a pushover, that man, but we loved him anyways.”

“You have siblings as well?”

“Second outta four boys. We don’t talk much anymore.”

“A shame.”

Cid hums in response, before taking a moment to roll up his sleeve, checking the hour on his watch. With the light from the dancehall casting across him, he looks remarkably attractive as it highlights his face with interesting shadows, catching in his sea-blue eyes like sunrays on the waves. Vincent slaps himself mentally for such poetic thoughts at a moment like this, mere minutes out of a panic attack.

Flicking away some ash, the blonde lifts his eyes away from the watch’s face. “How much longer do you think they’ll be at it? They gotta get tired eventually.”

Leaning his arm against the railing, the raven gives a halfhearted shrug in return. “I can’t quite say,” ash flutters away on the breeze, like a morbid sort of lightning bug, “though I imagine it’ll calm down once dinner is brought out.”

For a moment, the shorter of the duo perks up at the mention of food, “think I’ll be able to get my hands on any of that, since I ain’t technically an invited guest?”

“I’ll share,” Vincent drops the cigarette butt, pressing the toe of his shoe down on it and twisting to put it out, “I don’t eat much as is.”

Cid lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, you look it. Absolutely no meat on those bones.” When crimson eyes roll in response, he merely grins in turn, before moving to shrug off his coat, tossing it over slim shoulders. “Lookin’ a bit cold there, Vince.”

The coat is warm from body heat, feeling very much like someone just handed him a wearable hug, and it smells distinctly of smoke and something earthy and spicy all at once. There’s a hint of something else in the scent that he can’t quite place, but Vincent isn’t able to linger on it as his brain rushes through a thousand different thoughts, questions, and scenarios.

Surely this was merely Cid being nice and _coming off intense_ , nothing more. To his touch-starved body, and socially untrained mind, this feels more along the lines of a love confession that anything else.

Vincent sinks into the coat, its large form hanging off his body like a parent’s shirt on a toddler, giving him distinct callbacks to when he was a small child, sneaking into his father’s closet to try on suits.

Sephiroth had done the same thing to him years later, borrowing leather jackets much too large for his thirteen-year-old self. That very same week, the older brother found himself making a purchase for a child’s leather jacket, gifting it to the silver-haired boy that evening. He’d been so _jubilant_.

While is brain continued at a mile-a-minute pace, Cid finishes up smoking before flicking the butt to the stone floor, smothering it out with his heel. Chaos was back at the raven’s side, sniffing at the coat, before worming his muzzle beneath the fabric, snapping Vincent from whatever spell had come over him. His hand drops down to the black fur of the shepherd’s snout, rubbing a gentle circle out with his thumb, before he goes to click the leash back into place. As they reenter the venue, he takes the fleece-lined coat from his shoulders, and hands it back to the blonde, accompanied by a quietly muttered thanks.

“Hey, no big deal,” Cid tosses the article of clothing aside, letting it land on the bench from before, the metal cigarette box clattering against the wooden armrest. Whatever else he might’ve had to say is cut short by a certain silver-haired individual’s arrival.

Sephiroth takes his brother by the sleeve, excusing them for one moment, “is something the matter?”

“Pretend we’re having a conversation so that Rufus lets me be for even just a _minute_ of peace,” Vincent casts his eyes to the pale-blonde man, standing by his lonesome, sipping idly at his drink, “he’s been trying all night to get into that Tseng’s pants. It was either I took a moment to calm myself, or someone’s head was getting cut off.”

“Is it a true party if no one gets decapitated by the end of it?”

Ah, there it is, the morbid Valentine family humor.

His brother chuckles briefly, shaking his head, “I suppose not.” Green gaze shifting past the raven, Sephiroth settles his sight on the blonde now settled back on the bench, scrolling lazily on his phone. Cid types out a text, and leans back with a sigh. “Have you managed to make a friend?”

Vincent has no need to follow his line of sight, he knows immediately of whom his younger brother speaks. “A companion with which I may pass the time faster, at the very least,”

“And is he the reason you smell like smoke?”

There’s absolutely no chance that he can resist rolling his eyes, “he stepped out, and I accompanied him. You don’t have to baby me, Seph, I am the _older_ brother, after all.”

Between the two of them, they only manage to get a few more sentences in before the crowd is parting to make way for the tables that are being brought out. Trolleys full of food, drinks, china, and silverware follow. Cat-green eyes narrow, and the younger of the two nearly tosses his head back in despair.

“Now for the boring portion,”

Halfway through dinner, Rufus had stood from the table, gathering up the black-haired man he’d been chatting up earlier. With his arm slung over his shoulder, and a simple “let us leave, Cid,” the man, his companion, and their driver made their exit. It was after they were already out the door that Vincent took notice of the fleece-lined coat still hung over the back of the chair nearest to him.

Taking it into hand, he goes to rush off after the trio of men, a sense of panic crashing over him. He must’ve pushed his chair out too quickly, as it suddenly topples over with a clatter of wood, turning more than a fair number of eyes in his direction. Vincent falters momentarily, which leads to his ultimate downfall, as his foot catches against Chaos’s leash.

With an ungraceful sort of movement and a sound he’d no idea he could even _make_ , he crashes into the floor, though, thankfully, the coat in his hand cushions most of the fall.

A portion of the crowd bursts into laughter, some of them gasp instead, and the rest merely watch with stern eyes. Sephiroth hurries to his own feet, and slips an arm under his elder brother, helping him to rise as the dog sniffs around him, whining.

Crimson eyes downcast, Vincent merely mutters, voice no more than a hushed whisper, “I’d like to go home now,” and lets his head fall, dejected, chin to his chest.

“Of course,” Sephiroth takes the leash from him, slipping it onto his arm as he pulls the raven to stand. He takes quick note of the guests who are still snickering, eyes narrowing at a few of them, who go wide-eyed and gulp, before leading his brother towards the coat closet. The woman waiting by the door retrieves their outerwear, “come now, Vincent,” he says, slipping his brother’s leather jacket over his shoulders, “all things considered, this could have been much worse.”

Rather than responding, the ebony-haired man slips Cid’s forgotten coat into his brother’s hand, and stalks off towards the main doors.

He hates how he can still feel everyone’s eyes on his back.

Sephiroth lingers in his brother’s meager apartment after he’d settled into his room, door shut tight, the soft sound of a familiar show coming from beneath the door. Chaos sits by the barrier obstructing his human from view, whining, though he doesn’t paw at the wood. A short snap is enough to pull his attention to the silver-haired man, and he trots over once he sees the bag in his hands.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, sweet boy,” he tells the dog as he slips a treat from the bag, holding it for him to take, “Vincent just needs some time to calm himself.” When he goes to stand, he sees the navy blue coat he’d tossed onto the couch upon arrival. An idea washes over him like a much-needed rain.

Slipping his phone free from his pocket, he opens Rufus’s contact, calling him as he goes to step into the hall. Once the other man answers, he sounds winded, and vaguely annoyed. “What the hell do you want? I’m a bit busy,”

Judging by the soft groaning he can make out on the other side of the line, Sephiroth doesn’t doubt that one bit. “I need your chauffer’s contact information.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll text you it-”

“Now.”

Rufus lets out a primal sort of growl, and he’s not quite sure at which distraction he’s directing that towards. There’s the sound of a bed creaking beneath him, and then he lists off a number, which Sephiroth is quick to record into his phone. Once he’s gotten it, he merely hangs up, no further explanation or demands to be had.

Retreating back into the apartment, he finds that Vincent’s door is still closed, though the dog has settled onto the couch instead, head on his paws. Sephiroth takes a notepad from the refrigerator door, tearing an empty page a few layers down, his brother’s script-like handwriting sprawled across several top pages, and rerecords the number. Neatly folding the coat, he places it down on the counter, where he knows it’ll be seen, and secures the note to it.

 _I took the liberty of getting your friend’s contact_ , the note reads, _you should call him to arrange a time and place to return his coat. He’ll certainly be missing it in this sort of weather. Please call me if you need anything, Vincent, accidents are bound to happen once in a while._

_I’m very proud of you for coming with me tonight, I know how difficult it can be for you to step out of routine. Please don’t take it out on yourself. My love, dearest brother._

_Seph_

Though he doesn’t leave his room for the rest of the night, Vincent does, however, open up the door, accompanied by a short whistle to catch his dog’s attention. From the doorway, he can see that his brother had filled both Chaos’s food and water, as well as given him the remainder of his wet food, judging by the discarded can in the recycling bin. Once the shepherd is settled onto his bed, he begins to strip down from his formal attire, merely discarding it to the floor, and doesn’t bother to put anything else on.

Defeated, he flops down onto the mattress, taking ahold of the covers to bury himself into their warmth. Eventually, he manages to doze off some time past five, the scent of smoke and something earthy in his nose.

Awakening to sunlight in his eyes, Cid curses himself for forgetting to shut the blinds when he’d finally gotten home the night prior. In his defense though, he’d been rather preoccupied by his thoughts of the strikingly handsome man he’d met, unable to forget the way that those bright ruby eyes had seemed to size him up, the way his rosy lips pouted, how the early moonlight caught in his hair ebony hair… Groaning as he rolls over in bed, the blonde throws his covers off from himself, pushing back the foolish thoughts. He’d never been interested in men before, not that he took any issue with such relationships, but he ultimately decides to chalk it up to a crush, and nothing more. That’d be easy enough to deal with, yeah? Crushes aren’t anything to get all worked up over.

Plus, it’s not likely they’d run into each other again. What with the way Rufus had been speaking about the elder Valentine brother, he was made out as a reclusive sort of being, one even those closest to him rarely saw. According to his employer, Sephiroth himself only saw him once a week for dinner, for about two hours at a time.

What a lonely sort of life to lead. But he imagined Vincent must be happy living that way if he continued to do so.

As he pulls a pair of pants over his briefs, Cid glances into the bedroom mirror, trying to smooth down his hair. He briefly reconsiders his behavior from the night before; offering out the wrong hand, pushing him to dance… A scowl settles to his lips. What a fool he could be, this man he stares at in the mirror. But, hey, he couldn’t change it now that it’s happened. Gods be damned if he continued to feel bad about things he couldn’t change.

Feeling bad about Shera had never made her come back, regretting every single word he’d said didn’t mend the relationship he’d managed to break. But, since then, he’s tried so much harder to be better, hoping that he would never behave in the same manner again to someone that matters.

There’s a knock to his door, jolting him from his thoughts. “Cid Highwind! It’s nearly nine in the morning! You sleep any longer and your breakfast will be lunch!”

“’m already up, Ma,” he says, pulling the door open to face the stout, graying woman, who merely rolls her eyes up at him, “want help with breakfast?”

“About time you did something around here,” his mother started again, turning on her heel and began towards the kitchen, “I let you stay here, rent free, and the most you do is your own laundry. But I suppose it’s a good thing you’re getting so much work done.”

Fighting back the urge to roll his eyes -that woman has eyes in the back of her skull, he’d try to convince anyone- Cid instead takes a moment to pull a blue sweater over his previously uncovered chest. “I’d give you rent if you’d let me, Ma,” he mumbles as he scales the stairs of their old townhouse, “and don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same for my brothers.”

“Ohh, a lot of spitfire, the load of you,” she tells him, but he knows her too well to take any offense in it, instead opting to take a carton of eggs from the fridge and handing it to her, “too much like me, too little like your father.” Grumpy, widowed, old Misses Jane Highwind sends a kiss in the direction of a framed picture on the wall, their wedding day. He knows not to question her strange behavior.

Breakfast is a simple sort of affair for the two of them, though his mother begins muttering about the visitation of her sister tomorrow, hoping that she’ll have the time to make something nice. He also knows that he shouldn’t even start to offer his assistance, she’d only refuse it, calling him too nosy for his own good.

Dishes are also a simple affair, though he’s quickly moved out of the way so that she may do it herself. It’s then that he notices his coat isn’t in its usual place when he goes to grab a cigarette, finding only empty space instead.

“Uh, hey, Ma,” the woman merely grumbles in response, “have ya seen my coat? Blue with that fluff on the inside?”

Shaking her head, she wipes down a plate, sitting it on a rack to dry. “Sure haven’t. Did you check your room?”

Cid feels like a child all over again then, searching across the house like the time he’d misplaced his shoe on the way to soccer practice. When his mother asks him when he’d seen it last, his blue eyes widen with realization, and he slaps a palm to his forehead, groaning.

“Shit,” he goes to get his keys, reaching for his phone as he does so, “I think I left it at the venue. Lemme call my boss real quick,”

He’s already calling up the young business student as he treads towards his personal vehicle. Rufus answers soon enough, but snaps as soon as he picks up. “Gods! What is with people calling me when I’m in the middle of something.”

Cid climbs into the driver’s seat, already going to switch on the engine, fully aware he really shouldn’t be driving around without his ID in his pocket, “have you seen my coat?”

“That’s all? You need your _coat_?”

“Uh, yeah, my… everything is in there, really. Cigarettes, wallet… you get the picture, yeah?” Before he can turn the key, he hears Rufus sigh into his microphone.

“That must’ve been why Sephiroth called last night. I think he has it, he asked for your number. Astounded he hasn’t called you yet if that’s the case. Here, write down his number, though he might not answer, it being the weekend and all.”

“Thanks, boss,”

Sephiroth did _not_ , in fact, answer.

Cid had tried once, as soon as he’d gotten the number, and then an hour later, before, finally, a last try another two after that. No such luck. His mother watches him with curious eyes from her chair, gently rocking in place as she finishes up mending a shirt; he’d popped the button off of by pure chance.

“You seem awfully determined to get this back. We can get you a new one.” Jane tells him, brows arched and drawn together.

Groaning, he leans back in the loveseat, hands on his face. “That’s not the issue. My wallet’s in there, Ma, alongside my debit card, probably about a hundred bucks, my ID… you get the picture. Plus, it’s got that metal cigarette box Pa gave me.”

She tsks her tongue at him, “if you don’t get word of it by tomorrow morning, I’d cancel that card. A shame ‘bout your Pa’s case, but I guess there ain’t much to do.”

“I need my license to drive. Can’t work if I can’t drive,” he says, muffled by his hands still pressed firmly to his face, “if I can’t work, I can’t get money, and then, Momma, I can kiss college goodbye.”

“You can get a new license, boy, just calm yourself down. Go make yourself some tea, and give it some time. You’ll be fine, Cid, you always are.”

Mother knows best, he supposes, as the tea certainly had calmed his nerves, pulled tight like the strings of a violin, and singing nearly just as loud. He’d sent an update Rufus’s way, alongside an apology for his potential missing future shifts. By the time his mom was up and about, having thrown his properly darned shirt his way some time ago, headed off to start dinner, his phone was ringing from an unknown number. Taking the chances it was someone with information on his missing coat, or, at the very least, his wallet, he answered.

Waiting a brief second to ensure it’s not spam, he starts, “hello?”

“Is that you, Cid?” Across the line, he hears a vaguely familiar voice ask, like velvet on his ears, and when he doesn’t immediately answer, they continue. “It’s me, Vincent. I’ve your coat.”

Cid perks up in his seat, “you had it this whole time and didn’t call sooner?”

He couldn’t see the way Vincent flinches at his tone, and the accusation, “I apologize. I figured Sephiroth would take it your way, not leave it in my apartment. I… don’t wake until rather late, as you can tell. If you would like, we can arrange a drop-off, and let that be that.”

“You mean to say you’re just now waking up?” He takes his phone from his ear, and checks the hour. It’s nearly five in the evening. “Man, you must work the nightshift, huh?”

“Actually, I can’t work. Disability and all that, I’d lose my claim to it.”

Shit. He’d forgotten about that. How’d he forget about that? Always sticking his foot in his mouth, Cid Highwind, numbskull extraordinaire. Come get your tickets, and find out how he’ll fuck up today.

“That’s right. I guess it’s easy to live the night life, then, huh?” Chuckling halfheartedly to himself, he rises to stand, and excuses himself to the porch, ignoring the way his mother watches his every step. “Guess I’m not supposed to drive around without my license and all that, so maybe we could meet halfway someplace. I live in the middle part of the city, though I’m not far from Rufus’s, if you know it.”

“I know the area. Sephiroth’s friends live near him.”

“Great! Let’s see, there’s that café on the corner of Loveless Avenue,”

“Yes, my brother frequents it with his friend,” he can hear Vincent opening and closing cabinets in the background, before there’s the sound of his phone being set against the countertop. When the man speaks again, he sounds more distant. “I can meet you there tonight or tomorrow, or whenever else works best. I… don’t do very much.”

Chaos barks once, short, and sharp, as if in agreement. Cid can’t help but laugh. Smart dog. “Tonight works fine, gonna have family over tomorrow.” A silence falls over them after that, mutual and relatively awkward, before, unprompted, the raven draws one, sharp breath and clears his throat slightly.

“I can leave soon if you’d like. So you don’t have to wait any longer.”

Muttering a _hold on_ , Cid opens the door and calls to his mother, “how long will dinner be? I gotta run out real quick. Think I’ve got the time?” When she merely waves his way, dismissive, he takes that as an all clear, “yeah, that works fine. Lemme go get my shoes on.”

Stopping at the crosswalk, Vincent looks left, right, and back again, catching his dog mimicking the movement from the corner of his eye. Deeming it safe, he steps down from the curb, holding the leash short to ensure Chaos doesn’t get too far from his side. They make it right as the light changes, scaling the curb across the street as the cars begin to move, and he grimaces to himself when he notices it’s his left side facing the open road, sleeve bundled and tied beneath his bicep. There’s already the sensation of eyes on him, but he manages to merely chalk it up to an imagination overactive from anxiety.

Judging by the mess of gold-blonde hair in the crowd, he’s been beaten to the café, Cid leaning against an iron-wrought fence lining the outside seating. He’s flicking ash from his cigarette, a new packet in his other hand as he goes to pocket it, blowing smoke from his mouth. Vincent trails straight up to him, maneuvering the coat from beneath his arm and into his hand.

“Here,” the raven says, holding it out, “you left in such a hurry last night, you’d left it on your chair.”

Cid looks surprised, but whether it was from the information or something else, the taller man is unable to tell. He holds his gaze for a moment longer, before sweeping his own over his frame, as if taking in every detail about him in the better lighting. Taking the navy blue coat, he unfolds it and shrugs it over his shoulders, slipping the metal cigarette box from his pocket once it’s settled. “Thanks, Vince,” he’s looking the case over, before he puts it back and feels for his wallet, “everything seems to be in order. You want something to eat?”

“I’m not quite hungry.” His body’s still reeling from last night, and his mind is telling him not to eat yet. “Besides, don’t you have a dinner waiting for you?”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t get a drink, or a dessert for after. You sure I can’t get you something for you to have later?”

Vincent doesn’t immediately respond; he seems a bit too nervous to do so. If Cid thought he looked like a fish out of water last night, well now it’s more like a whole damn whale out of the ocean. With the way he’s tucking his chin into his high-neck collar, hair hiding his face, he looks like a stranger to his own skin. Glancing away from the other man for a moment, he looks around, trying to figure out what exactly was eating at him.

That’s when he notices there’s a fair number of people staring their way, watches as their eyes dart between the service dog and the tied up sleeve, and sees Vincent retreat further into himself, Chaos whining by his side.

Hushed, he whispers, “yes, I’m sure,” and goes to turn on his heel, hand wrapped in the handle on the back of the dog’s harness like it was his only lifeline.

Cid scowls, and turns to the crowd watching them, brows furrowed and cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, “what are you numbskulls looking at? Mind your own fuckin’ business!” They go wide-eyed at his outburst, but he doesn’t linger to watch them, instead stomping off after the ebony-haired man, combat boots heavy on the sidewalk. “Vince! Hey, Vince! Wait up!”

He catches him about a block down the street, where he finds that he’s stopped for him in a spot no one else is nearby, the sidewalk empty aside from the three of them. Feeling particularly daring when he isn’t told to stay back, he steps closer and reaches up, brushing ebony hair away from porcelain-pale cheeks, even if they are ever-so-slightly flushed from embarrassment or the cold. “Just ignore them, they don’t know shit.”

Crimson eyes lock with his own, surprisingly tender, and he’s glad he hasn’t overstepped any boundaries yet, “this is why I tend to only wander the city late at night. Less prying eyes, even fewer scathing voices.”

“Can’t give into it that easy. You shouldn’t have to live your life avoiding everyone, that ain’t fair to you.” When Vincent goes to shift his hand away from the harness handle and back to hold the leash, Cid goes to take his hand. “You deserve to be happy.”

“You hardly know me, Cid.”

“You’re right. I don’t know what you’ve been through, or why, but I _do_ know you should get to be happy. I’m not askin’ you to spill the beans for me, just…

“ _Just_ what? Cheer up?”

“No, no, just give yourself a chance, Vincent.”

Whatever fire had settled into those sharp ruby eyes during their argument is immediately put out at the words. Though he says nothing in response, the raven relaxes his hand into Cid’s, finding that his own hand his smaller and that the blonde’s is calloused from years of work. Cid, in turn, realizes that his skin is ice cold, like there’s no blood coursing through those deep veins he can barely make out against the surface of his skin.

Dropping their intertwined hands so that they rest between them, the blonde smiles up to his companion, and merely says “we should get you some gloves, huh?” When Vincent returns the expression, even if it was a simple tug of his lips, Cid swears his heart stops beating for a moment. It’s then that he remembers the issue at hand, about a potential crush, and his brain swears at himself.

 _Damn fool, you’ve done it now,_ and he glances away, before moving to tug Vincent along with him, taking a few steps down the block. “Come on, I’ll walk you home. Where we headed?”

That starts a new chain of events that Vincent had never before experienced. Growing up, he’d never had a friend that wasn’t his brother, even when he’d been in school as a child. He’d often been considered _strange_ , usually due to his tendency to rarely speak or interact with others, keeping mostly to himself. Though everything had certainly taken a change for the worst when he was fifteen.

Setting all of that aside, he was still surprised, pleasantly so, however, to find that, when he awoke the next evening, Cid had left him a few texts, just measly chattings, and it’d spread from there. They were texting back and forth near hourly when they were both up and about, talking about everything and nothing, getting to know each other way too well for people who had been strangers mere days ago.

Normally, the first thing people asked him when they met was _how’d you lose or arm_ or _what’s wrong with you_. Cid was nothing like that, never even going as far as to mention his lack of a left arm unless he’d brought it up himself, and even then, it stayed polite. For the first time, outside of his brother, he felt like a _human_.

So, then, why did he keep dreaming of himself as anything but?

Vincent wishes he could say that he’d long since become accustomed to his dreams, and the horrors he’d feel and see. The way he swore he could feel his bones shifting, skin tearing, wings sprouting from his back or horns forming from his skull, the way he’d feel his body contort and twist as something else took control of him, like he was nothing but a host, a mere husk, a container…

A vessel for something much greater than himself.

And when he’d awaken, his chest would feel so _hollow_ , and his left arm, gone now for nearly a full decade, would ache, and he could find himself at times, going to clutch for it, to soothe the pain. He’d only find empty air, always bolting up in his bed, wondering why he wasn’t finding the chill of metal beneath his fingers.

Where had such ideas come from anyways? He’d never had a prosthetic, or anything even remotely similar, but it wasn’t exactly like his dreams stayed in his head after he’d roused from his slumber, either. It seemed that the only remainders were the feelings of pain, a gentle self-loathing at the pit of his stomach, and, though rarely, names lingering in the recesses of his mind.

 _Hojo_ , his brain spits, laced with venom, though it’s soon followed by _Lucrecia_ , and his bones ache.

His phone’s screen turns on, telling him there’s a new text waiting for him. As expected, it’s Cid once again, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet today, leaving Vincent mostly to his own devices. It’s a solemn sort of evening, the raven caught up in his feelings with pain still aching through his bones, but, when he sees the blonde’s message, he manages to perk up.

Vincent rests his arm atop his dog, who’s laying on top of him, back legs between his own and his head resting in the center of his unbound chest, warm, panting breath on his chin. Chaos laps at his face when he shifts, earning a soft chuckle. _You’re not busy tonight, are you?_ Reads the message, followed quickly by a _wanna get drinks if you aren’t?_

_I’d prefer if you brought drinks here instead._

_Don’t wanna go out? Feeling shy?_

Taking a moment, he thinks of the best way to explain his reluctance without worrying the other man. _I must have slept wrong,_ he tries, _back hurts a bit too much to sit at a bar._ Cid seems to accept the answer, as he’s responding soon after with an inquiry of what sort of alcohol he likes. Once they’ve managed to settle that, Vincent drops his phone back to the bed, and realizes he’s got some straightening up to do.

Even with how meager and unimpressive his apartment is, he knows it’ll seem all the less so with his clothes strewn about, accompanied by piles of books, discarded journals, and an empty pack of cigarettes. With his brother being as busy as he was the last passing weeks, there was little incentive for him to clean.

Well, now was as good as ever.

By the time Cid’s knocking on his door, he’s only managed to clean up the clothes, Chaos watching patiently from beside the laundry basket, tail wagging. Each time he’d missed the basket, the dog had picked it up, so at least he’d been some help, alongside being such endearing moral support. As Vincent goes to get the door, he pats him on the head, rubbing his thumb over one brow as he murmurs his praises.

As he’s halfway to the door, it clicks in his head that he’s still walking around shirtless, and has yet to bind his chest. Swiftly, he ducks into his bedroom, though he calls for his guest to come in, telling that he’ll join him in one moment. He digs out a binder from his top drawer, securing it into place before tugging a loose sweater over himself, tucking the bottom into the hem of his shorts.

Cid has already crossed through the threshold of the apartment, holding a pack of beer under his arm, when he steps from his room. Vincent clears his throat to get the blonde’s attention. “Apologies for the mess, but I do want you to know there was an attempt made at cleaning.”

With a wave of his hand, Cid replies, “ah, no worries. My room isn’t much better.” Chaos goes to investigate him as he sets the case of beer on the dining table, accompanied by a bottle of whiskey. “Hey boy, barely recognized you without that vest!”

“You can pet him,” he’s told as Vincent slides the hamper into his room, seemingly trying to hide some the more delicate items beneath an old baggy shirt, “if he doesn’t have the vest on, it’s fair game.”

Like the flick of a switch, the blonde near immediately drops to one knee, brushing his hands through coarse black-and-tan fur, laughing softly when Chaos licks the end of his nose. “Thanks for having me over, Vince,” he finally says when he goes to stand, brushing a few strands of fur off of his hands, “you wouldn’t believe the week I’ve had.”

When he receives an arch of a thin black brow in response, he continues, “Ma’s sister is staying with us for the week, and brought her grandkids with her, so there’s four brats in the house. Don’t get me wrong, I like kids, but these ones… whoo boy. High energy don’t even begin to describe them.

“And then Rufus has been driving me, no pun intended, up the wall with all of his events and meetings. I think I’ve driven around the whole city six times over this week alone,” Cid picks up the case of beer as a space is cleared across the coffee table for it, and he takes notice of the television playing a black-and-white show or film across it, perking one brow in response, “even saw that brother of yours once or twice, but he seems hellbent on avoiding me.”

“Sounds like quite the week indeed,” Vincent says as he removes some journals from the couch, folding up sketchbooks and shutting covers to lined sheets, though the newly opened space is immediately occupied by the dog. Scowling, albeit halfheartedly, he scoots Chaos over, taking his seat, before he resumes speaking, “shall we order something to eat?”

“Oh, you’re actually hungry? That’s a first,” one hand to his hip, the blonde jokingly goes to check the other’s temperature, grinning up at him, “what’s around here? I could go for a pizza.”

It’d be impossible to miss the way his companion’s face contorts at the statement, even in the dim apartment lighting. “Not much for pizza?” Cid’s voice changes to a mocking imitation of Vincent’s own, “too greasy for your assuredly refined palette?”

That earns him an indignant huff in response, accompanied by a roll of crimson eyes. “I don’t care much for tomato sauce,” Vincent tells him simply, “but there’s always something else I can get instead. Besides, I’m sure you’d like meat on your pizza, and I certainly don’t eat that.”

“Vegetarian?”

“Yes, which makes it rather difficult to find good takeout at times, even in the big city. Meat merely doesn’t sit well with my stomach.”

When he plops down onto the couch, Cid’s weight practically bounces the raven in his place, and he goes to take his phone from his pocket, chuckling good-naturedly. “Lemme look at the places nearby. Only the best for you, Vince.” In one swift motion, the device is plucked from his hands and set onto the coffee table, face down.

Before he can demand a reason, he hears a soft “you’ve already bought the drinks, I’ll cover this.”

Vincent expects a lot more of a fight than he received, what with how fighty the blonde can be, but all he does is cross his arms over his burly chest and huff. That’s quick to change, however, when Chaos trots up to him, a toy in his hold. How can someone stay upset when faced with a such a cute creature like a Galian shepherd?

Taking the toy from the dog, he turns to watch the tv, volume low with subtitles flashing across the screen. When Chaos wags his entire rear in anticipation, he tosses the ball, and watches the black-and-brown blur rush off after it. “So, whatcha watchin’?”

“Twilight Zone,” comes his answer, Vincent never once looking away from his phone as he enters in an order, “Father used to watch it every night when he came home from work. I’d watch it with him.”

Cid hasn’t the slightest idea as to what is going on in the episode, clearly having missed something important before he’d taken to watching, but he finds himself unable to look away regardless. When Chaos returns with the ball, he manages to tear his blue eyes from the screen to take the toy again, feigning a throw before actually playing along.

Eventually, the raven sets down his phone and leans forward to snatch a beer, popping it open with an efficiency that both does and doesn’t surprise Cid, before handing it to his guest. After it’s taken with muttered thanks, he then takes one for himself.

This time around, the ball is dropped at Vincent’s feet, and he rolls his eyes down at the dog. “He can do this for hours,” it bounces once, twice, and then rolls into the kitchen, Chaos skittering after it with bounding steps, “it’s especially bad when I don’t leave the apartment for a few days.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

“From time to time, when I have bad depressive spells.” Rather than returning to the duo on the couch, Chaos merely plops down into his bed, chewing on his toy. “I only leave to take him on short walks during such times.”

Humming through a sip of beer, Cid nods his understanding. “I imagine having him ‘round helps with your motivation to get up and do things though, yeah?” He gets a mimicking nod in return before Vincent seemingly downs half his drink in one go, though the drink is set down onto a coaster immediately.

“If I didn’t have him, or my brother, for that matter, I’m sure I would have given up a long time ago.” Crimson eyes widen slightly when he realizes what he’s said, and he glances, nervously, over to the blonde, hiding behind long bangs, “apologies. I don’t mean to be so depressing.”

Merely waving his hand dismissively, his guest settles in his seat, lowering his drink from his lips. “Hey, no worries. You’re allowed to feel how you feel. Just know you can talk to me, Vince. I don’t mind listening.”

They fall quiet for a few moments, before the remote is passed Cid’s way, leaving him to scroll through too many options. He settles on a film Vincent’s never seen before, murmuring something about _damn, missed this one,_ and turns the volume up a few notches. He leaves the subtitles on, however.

Reaching for his drink, the raven quietly inquiries, “Cid, might I ask you something? It’s… rather strange, I suppose.”

“Color me intrigued. Shoot,”

“Are we… friends?”

Cid throws his head back, laughing, but, when he opens his blue eyes to find Vincent, shoulders tensed and his own head low between them, he realizes his mistake. “Oh, you were serious. Vince, oh man, of course we’re friends! Come on, why else would I have invited you to drinks? Think I do that with people I don’t like?”

“I’ve… never had a friend before,” comes a hushed whispering from beneath overgrown bangs, “I’m unsure of the social norms.”

One arm is thrown over tightly drawn shoulders, pulling the raven close, and he catches that scent once again, of smoke and earth, though the spiciness lingers like a fading ghost. He’d never quite noticed how strong Cid’s arms were before, and, briefly, he wonders what it would be like to curl up in them, safe, and never have to leave his embrace again. “Everyone’s been missin’ out, then. You’re a great guy! Even if your tastes are a bit strange.”

Vincent closes his eyes, leans himself into the hold, his arm settled atop both of their thighs. His nose is buried somewhere between the crook of Cid’s neck and his chest, and he can feel strong heartbeats beneath heavy flesh. When his hand is taken into a large, warm one, he feels his own heart cease movement, leaving him feeling hollow in a brand new way he’s unfamiliar with. Stubble brushes against his hair when Cid comes to rest his chin atop the back of his head, the hand resting atop his left shoulder running calloused fingers through his ebony locks, twirling strands.

Something shatters in him, breaks down a dam he didn’t even know existed, and, next thing Vincent knows, tears are flowing freely from his eyes, wetting the pale gray shirt beneath his face, warm from his own breath and body heat. Cid holds him tighter as sobs wrack his frail frame, his chin turning so that he can rest his cheek against the back of his head, murmuring a soft, reassuring “ _it’s okay_ ,” into his hair.

It’s impossible to even recall when the last time he cried was. Had it been when he’d awoken in the hospital, left side several pounds lighter? Had it been when he’d learned of his father’s death? Had it been at the funeral? Had he cried when Sephiroth moved out? When he’d first joined their family? When his mother died? When he’d dreamt of monsters pouring from his own skin, breaking him down to a miniscule level? He knew he’d cried before, but when? _When_?

With a tenderness he would have never expected to ever see or feel from Cid, such a rough man by nature, he’s slowly pried away from his sturdy form, though he never once feels as if he’s been pushed away. The hand on his own leaves his grip, and comes to lift his chin up, bringing watery, ruby eyes to meet stormy ones, concern bright in Cid’s expression.

“Talk to me, babe,” he pulls his sleeve up over the middle of his hand, hooking it into place with his thumb, and wipes tears from flushed cheeks and reddening eyes, “what’s bothering you?”

Chaos is at their sides, resting his head on Vincent’s knee, so he goes to brush his fingertips along the rough fur of his muzzle, grounding him further. “I don’t quite know,” his voice barely even qualified as a whisper, nearly lighter than the air around them, though it hung heavily, “I really can’t say,”

“That’s okay.” Before either of them can say or do anything further, there’s a knock to the door, and Vincent nods for him to get it, saying his wallet is on top his bedroom dresser. Everything’s paid for and set to the counter before Cid returns, finding his seat’s been taken over by the dog. “Just tell me what I can do for you,”

“May I have my blanket?”

“Of course.” When he goes back into the bedroom, he places the wallet back into its place, and then turns to face the bed. There are several covers atop it, so he makes a guess, but if he’d picked wrong, Vincent says nothing when he throws it over slumped shoulders and goes to sit behind him. “Don’t let me scare you,” Cid says, soft, and goes to slide both arms around his friend, pulling him back against his chest.

Once the raven calms himself enough, he removes his frame from the hold, running his hand over Chaos’s long body, curling his fingers in the fur. When he catches Cid’s inquiring gaze, he nods, assuring he’ll be okay, and then goes to excuse himself to the restroom. He splashes cold water on his face, patting it dry after, resting his tired eyes in the low-light as his dog sits by the door, smiling dopily up to him. Vincent pats his head and goes to leave, finding Cid in his previous spot, sipping idly at his beer.

“Hungry?” Vincent asks, headed for the kitchen. He pulls down a plate from the cupboard, and balances it atop the pizza box when he goes to pick it up. A grimace sets onto his face at how greasy the bottom of the box feels, but there are worse things to worry about at the moment.

Cid waits for him to grab his own meal before he takes a slice, the dog settled on the floor between his parted knees, panting as he lifts it to take a bite. He mouths a _no_ down to him, and Vincent gives a forced sort of smile when he sits down again, pressing play on the movie. “I don’t know what came over me,”

“No worries, Vince, we all have those moments.”

Thinking it through while he picks through his food, merely shifting slices of eggplant back and forth on the plate, the raven suddenly arrives at an interesting point. “…did you call me _babe_ a moment ago?”

“Eh? Oh, I guess I did,” Cid hopes to hide his blush by looking away, pretending to be lost in thought, as if wracking his brain, “dunno why though.” If the other man saw the pink rising on his cheeks, he doesn’t mention it. “…aren’t you gonna eat? Come on, I know this is your breakfast, you gotta be hungry. Whatcha get anyways?”

“Parmigiana Bianca.”

Blue eyes stare at him, blankly, before Cid says, “wanna run that one by me again?”

Vincent nearly smiles, genuinely this time around. “Eggplant parmigiana, but without tomatoes.”

“ _Refined palate_ indeed,”

Their conversation continues from there, nothing if not jovial, as if one of them hadn’t just been violently sobbing against the other moments ago. It switches between commentating on the movie -this is the newest thing Vincent’s ever seen, Cid learns, even though it’s twenty years old, since most of the things he’d grown up watching were all things his father had watched as well, he’s never even seen a movie in _theaters_ \- and just the idle talk of friends. At some point, Chaos had retired to his bed, sleeping with his head tucked beneath his tail.

Cid checks the hour. “Damn, it’s past midnight already? I feel like I just got here,” he’d been there five hours, actually, “time flies, huh?”

“Welcome to the _night life_ , dear Highwind,” maybe it’s the beer talking, but, in the low light of the television screen, set back to the black-and-white show, and the dim lamp by the couch, Vincent looks impossibly more striking, his pale skin highlighted by the screen, crimson eyes seemingly aglow like the embers of a low hearth.

Something’s coming over the blonde, like a spell or some other shit he can’t quite explain, but it’s pulling him closer and closer to Vincent. When the raven notices him, he’s already slinging one arm around him to pull him an inch nearer, and he mutters a soft, “can I kiss you?”

It’s the most emotion Cid has ever seen on Vincent’s face, earlier crying aside, as his eyes go comically wide, like saucers, and his porcelain-pale cheeks redden to an impossible shade of pink, like someone had thrown an entire palette of blush onto him.

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Not nearly as much as you think,” he doesn’t move any closer, waits for the raven to move away or closer on his own time, but he remains frozen, “you can tell me no, Vince. It won’t hurt my feelings.”

It feels like an eternity, the wait he’s settled into, and he takes that as his answer, turning his eyes to the screen once again, letting his arm fall slack to the blanket Vincent is sitting atop. Sometime later, though whether it was seconds or minutes, he isn’t entirely sure, but he feels the thin fingers to his face all the same, curling around so that the palm of a pale hand is beneath his chin, nails lightly catching against his stubble and skin. Cid feels his head get turned to one side, and then feels the rushed peck of velvet lips to his own.

When Vincent pulls away, leaning back against the arm of the couch, Cid stares at him, surprised, before smiling down at him devilishly. “Oh, I see,” a teasing sort of smirk settles on rosy lips, and the blonde moves closer. Momentarily, he catches a look of panic in crimson eyes as he moves to climb atop of him, stopping Cid in place like time had frozen for him and him alone, before a soft nod tells him it’s okay to continue further.

Rough hands push slender legs apart so that he can lay himself between them, his stomach pressed to Vincent’s own, and he can hear the push and pull of his breaths, feel them to his heating skin. Calloused hands settle on each side of an ebony-framed face, pushing back locks of hair, but he’s sure to keep the hold loose so that his friend can pull away whenever he’d like. Their mouths catch again, but Cid is sure to make this one count, moving his lips against softer ones, and Vincent, who is clearly new to this, learns quickly for what it’s worth.

There’s a feverish rush to the both of them, Cid not wanting this to end, and Vincent wanting more, hands on skin, pushing the blonde’s shirt out of the way, fingers catching in hair. Softly, but wantonly, the raven gasps into him as fingers wrap into his ebony locks, pulling his head back to expose that long, pale neck that Cid, shamefully, has been wanting to mark up for quite some time now. He only gets three hickies in before he’s being gently pushed away, giving in with no complaint.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, letting his grip on his hair lessen, though a new grip settles on a bony hip instead.

“You’re drunk,” Vincent says, “or intoxicated, at the very least, and I don’t want to feel like I’ve taken advantage of you.”

“You’re not,” Cid responds, “you’re not.”

“I’d rather wait and see how you feel later about this.”

Though he’s reluctant, he nods, “I understand, Vince,” and lets his grip go entirely, lifting his heavier frame away from his friend’s, “you should be comfortable about all this.”

From there, the night slows down, Cid becoming more and more exhausted, slowly slumping over on the couch. At some point, Vincent nudges his guest in the side as he turns the television off, and tells him to come sleep on the bed, for the sake of his back. He gives in easily enough, following along in a braindead state.

Cid wakes by instinct five minutes before his alarm, finding himself with a rather pounding headache and in a bed he doesn’t recognize. For a brief moment he’s confused as to where he could be, considering he remembers being at Vincent’s place last, but, when he rolls over and finds a mess of ebony wisps spread across the covers next to him, he realizes he is still very much where he was last night. As he lays there, thinking desperately, and trying to pull back any recollection of night before, he hears his phone alarm go off in the room next to them.

Rushing to his feet, he goes to get it before it wakes the other man, knowing that eight AM is much too early for him to be up and about. He finds that Chaos, however, is moving around the apartment, headed for a drink from his water dish, unphased by the unfamiliar sound aside from setting his ears ever-so-slightly back at it. “Morning boy,” Cid greets, brushing a hand down his back as he leans against the wall, scrolling through notifications after swiping the alarm away. Rufus is asking for a few rides Monday morning, but that’s not his issue yet. “Do you remember anything that happened last night?” He asks the shepherd jokingly.

Chaos eyes him before turning around, tail wagging as he heads towards the bedroom, and, when he hears the sound of soft steps on the creaking apartment floors, he lifts his gaze from his phone. Vincent stands in the doorway, rubbing the heel of his palm against his tired eyes. “Nothing as bad as I imagine you’re thinking.”

“That so? Wanna fill me in then?”

Collecting his hair over one shoulder, the raven gestures for him to come closer, “only if you return to the bed with me. You’re very warm.”

“Ah, promoted from friend to personal space heater all in one night, I see.” Cid jokes as he takes a few steps towards him, but his empty hand is quickly taken into a pale one, and then he’s being pulled along behind him to the bed. “So, what did happen? Things get kinda blurry after midnight.”

“You asked to kiss me.” It’s said in such a nonchalant manner, it sounds as if it’s a normal, everyday sort of occurrence. Vincent climbs onto the mattress, settling beneath the covers before he holds them up, over his head, coaxing the blonde to come join him underneath.

Well, how could he refuse such a polite -and attractive- offer?

“Yeah, I kinda remember that.” He says as he settles down beneath the blankets with his friend, watching as he snuggles up to his chest, eyes heavy-lidded with the desire the return to sleep, full lashes brushing against his high-set cheekbones as he blinks drowsily. “Did you hit me or something?”

Vincent scoffs in reply. “As if,” the bed dips slightly as Chaos joins them, settling against his owner’s back, and then the raven meekly confesses, “I kissed you, and things escalated a bit from there.” When he sees the way Cid’s eyes go wide, he’s quick to explain, “but not in the manner you think! It was just kissing, and a bit of touching. You stopped when I asked.”

“Why’d you wanna stop? I can’t remember that either.”

“I… didn’t want to feel like I was taking advantage of you in the state you were in, even if I was a bit drunk myself. It wouldn’t have been very fair, or polite, for me to have done such a thing.”

“So… now that we’re both sober…”

When the blonde says that, crimson eyes flutter open once again, cheeks turning rosy. Vincent goes to hide his face from embarrassment, tossing black hair into the other man’s face. “You’re incorrigible, absolutely abysmal, you scoundrel,”

Cid rolls his eyes and goes to take Vincent’s hand away from his face, pushing his hair out of the way, and catches sight of a darkening hicky to his collarbone. There’s a familiar ache in his core at that. “Come on now, that’s no way to talk to me, now is it. I’m your friend, after all.” When the raven exhales, frustrated, into his face, he’s a bit taken aback by how cold his breath is, like he’s frozen. Though, judging by his body temperature, he very well could be. “I would like to experience all that again, not tired and drunk.”

There’s a flurry of emotions on the other man’s face, catching him off guard momentarily, surprised to see such a reaction, but eventually a look of determination settles into those fiery crimson eyes, and Vincent gives one, stern nod. “Okay,” the blonde’s face begins to light up, “but you should know that I, ah,” there’s a pause, accompanied by a sigh, “I’ve never done any of this before. I’ve never even _dated_ someone.”

“That’s okay. We can take it as slow or fast as you want, Vince,” he leans down, managing to catch a sweet sort of smell on his friend’s skin that he’s never noticed before, “just tell me whatcha want.”

“I merely want to see where _this_ will go,” and then Vincent leans in, catching Cid’s lips with his own, and the blonde merely hums into it, slotting his hands against bony hips, thumbs tracing small circles. Mindful of the dog behind his friend, he shifts them around, so that he’s on top of a pale, slender frame, like a beautiful sort of apparition, one that’s come for his heart, and he’d gladly hand it over. Without giving it too much thought, he grinds his own hips down, eliciting a sharp, surprised hiss, and Vincent pulls his head away.

Cid looks apologetic, “too much too soon?”

“I’m not sure,” slim fingers brush through his short hair, “perhaps you should try again so that I may properly assess.”

Laughing, the blonde lightly bumps his forehead against his friend’s, and they both hear the dog leave the room to return to his food bowl. Cid slides his hands down, one on each thigh, grasping for purchase, before he uses his newfound grip to pull the raven closer, angling his hips upwards just slightly, before grinding down against him once again.

Vincent turns his head to one side, groaning softly at the friction, and feels a determined mouth return to his neck, nipping. His hands trail back up, catching at the waistband of black shorts, pulling his tucked shirt free, before one slips beneath, finding that a) there’s no underwear beneath, and b) there’s a surprising slickness.

Running a pair of fingers against the wetness, he investigates, and the blunt tip of one digit slides against something vaguely familiar in design. Using his other hand, Cid slides the tight pants down, sparing a look to find that, yes, his suspicions were correct.

Shyly, the raven tries to hide himself, clutching his legs together as best he can with an entire man situated between them, twisting his hips to the one side. Calloused hands still him, “don’t worry, Vinny, I don’t judge for this kinda thing.” Breath hitching at the new nickname, he manages to calm himself enough to stop shifting in place. “At least I know how to work with this, never done nothin’ with another man before…” When blue eyes catch crimson ones again, Cid leans down to kiss him, and he feels a thumb slide against his crotch.

Tearing away from the kiss, Vincent can’t hold back the moan that slips from his lips as he feels fingers trace around him, learning every line, every curve. “Tell me if anything hurts, and I’ll stop,” he’s told before he feels one digit prod gently at his entrance, collecting some of that wetness on the tip. Slowly, the finger breaches him, sinking into him, and _gods_ , if that doesn’t feel good, even through the slight stretching sting.

Cid looks at him expectantly, and, when he receives a nod to continue, does exactly that. Vincent hasn’t experienced this since he was young and, erm, exploring some things about himself, but that’s beside the point. Curling his finger, the blonde elicits a heavy moan from that velvety voice he’s come to like so much, his friend throwing his arm over his eyes. When a second digit comes to rest alongside the first, then spreading apart to stretch soft walls as far as they would go before drawing a sharp hiss, the raven is left feeling particularly emptyheaded, especially as the ministrations continue. Cid’s unoccupied hand rubs along the entirety of his slit, pausing for a moment to rub gentle circles around his rousing clit before continuing an explorative trail upwards.

His hand worms beneath the soft fabric of Vincent’s loose sweater, coming to meet a soft, rounded chest. Pulling away from the raven slightly, he looks down at him in inquiry before he receives a curt nod in return. Enveloping one breast as best he could with one hand, he earns a hushed sort of moan, leaning back down to catch pale lips with his own once more.

“C-Cid,” Vincent whines, twisting away from the kiss as he grinds his own hips downwards, meeting the thrusts of wide fingers, “please, I… I need you to…”

The man in question chuckles down at his friend, before shaking his head. “Sorry, Vinny, no can do. I ain’t got no condoms, and like hell I’m taking that risk right now. But I can do this,” that sad expression at his refusal doesn’t last long before it blossoms into one of pleasure as Cid picks up the pace, adding a third finger. Releasing his grip that pinches and teases at a dusky nipple, he grabs the dark red sweater and pulls it clear of his shoulders, tossing it aside before he leans his head down, nipping and sucking at his chest. Hearing soft moans rise in volume, he eventually moves his ministrations southward, his hand tracing the shape of a pale hip, learning the gentle curves, before he settles his head between slim thighs.

Vincent watches him through his lashes, eyes lidded from pleasure, as he experimentally runs his tongue over his aching clit before the raven lets his head loll to one side. From there, it’s only a short matter of time before he’s clenching up around Cid’s fingers, hips moving in time with his actions, keening out pleas and his friend’s name. Fingers coming to a complete still as Vincent rides out his release, the blonde raises himself so that his mouth is next to one ear, whispering soft praises. As thin thighs shake in the aftermath, he extracts his fingers, teasingly brushing them against pale lips.

It’s a pleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless, when Vincent merely takes those fingers, still messy, into his mouth, licking them clean.

Cid’s breath hitches.

“Damn,” he can’t stop the way his hips grind down against his friend’s crotch, still clenching and unclenching from the remains of his climax, and he knows that these pants have just become ruined for the time being, but it’s well worth it when Vincent arches his back from the overstimulation, but pushes back against him, “you don’t know what you’re doing to me, do you? I think I could cum just like this, grinding against that sweet little cunny of yours. Er, is it fine for me to call it that?”

There’s a nod in response, but then Vincent leans up to kiss him, before pulling back to rest his forehead against the blonde’s, crimson staring into blue. “But I would like to taste you first,” Cid feels his breath catch again, heart skipping a beat, “and then, by all means, if you’d like to, finish that way,”

Hissing out a string of curses, Cid grabs a fistful of ebony hair with one hand, pulling his head back, as the other goes to undo his own pants, pulling them and his briefs down and out of the way. As soon as he hears the zipper being undone, Vincent squirms in his grip, trying to get an eyeful, but he holds him still before placing his other hand onto his chin, pressing his thumb against his lips to part them. Then he’s guiding his head downwards, watches as crimson eyes widen in surprise when he finally gets a look at his cock, and he coaxes him to open his mouth.

Groaning loud enough he fears the neighbors may hear him, he basks in the view of Vincent’s mouth enveloping his length, relishes the way his tongue explores him curiously. He’s surprised to find that the raven doesn’t choke or gag once, and, when he pulls back for a moment to better remove his underwear that are constricting his movement wrapped around his legs the way they are, he hears a soft explanation in the form of: “no gag reflex,” and it’s very well one of the hottest thing’s he’s ever heard.

“Rough or gentle?” Cid asks, “’cause you sure do seem to enjoy having your hair pulled.”

Accompanied by a soft shrug, Vincent says “I don’t mind. Up to you.”

“No, you get to pick this, Vinny. You can say it, I won’t judge.”

A short silence falls over them before the raven quietly goes, “rough,” and blue eyes brighten with a mischievous sort of light.

“Yeah?” Cid shifts, lifting his friend up with an ease that elicits a surprised yelp as he switches their positions, and lays down, half sitting against the backrest, pillows piled up to cushion his back. “On your knees.” Vincent obeys quickly, and, when the blonde pats his lap, he half crawls, half shuffles forward, watching him expectantly. Once again, he takes a fistful of black hair, and, holding himself, guides the other man down to his aching cock. “Tap my leg if you need up, got it?”

“Yes,”

“Good boy.” At that, he thrusts himself up into the waiting warmth of Vincent’s mouth, burying himself as far as he can go. Credit where credit’s due, the raven really does not choke once, nor does he show any sign of distress, his eyes half closed as Cid sets a brutal sort of pace. When those crimson eyes glance up to his face under heavy lids and thick lashes, his hips stutter, eliciting a sharp moan as he slips particularly deep. Each hummed groan draws him closer and closer to an edge he’d already nearly been spilling over, but he manages to hold out a bit longer than he’d been expecting before, with a simple one-word warning of _close_ , his climax hits him. Swallowed to the hilt as he is, he still can’t help but feel surprised at the way Vincent manages to take every drop, and, when his grip on his hair lessens enough he can pull away, he does just that, leaning back on his haunches.

His hand wipes at the corner of his mouth, wicking away a combination of saliva and cum. “Is this… a one-time thing?” Vincent asks as he lays down by the blonde’s side, strong arms immediately pulling him into an embrace that draws him flush against a broad chest. In the light that filters through the bedroom curtains, he sees that there’s the slightest dusting of sparingly placed freckles across pale cheeks. Among them, that he can make out from this angle, there’s a mark on Vincent’s left eyelid, and another to the right side of his nose’s bridge, that’re darker than the rest.

Cid hums, leaning down to nuzzle his nose into ebony locks, breathing deeply. The scent of his hair reminds him of a candle he can’t quite place… “Do you want it to be?”

“No.”

“Then, no, it isn’t a one-time thing.” Judging by the way Vincent purrs into his chest, burying his face against his skin and the light hair, he’s said the right thing. “We can be friends with benefits, or boyfriends, or whatever you want. I don’t care, Vinny, just as long as your happy.”

“I’ve… never had any of those things before. Would I even know what to do?”

“You seem like a quick teach. I’m sure you’ll catch on easy enough.”

Really, by now the both of them know each other’s schedules inside and out, so, when Cid comes up to him at the park one evening, he really shouldn’t as surprised as he is. Still, Vincent can’t help but jump at the approaching “hey, Vinny,” and he takes a few steps back, positioning his dog between him and the man who had addressed him. When he sees that it’s merely his friend, his shoulders relax.

“Cid,” watching as the blonde takes a drag of his cigarette, stopping a couple feet ahead of him, he leans down to unhook Chaos’s leash, “to what do I owe the pleasure?” Barking, his dog rushes off at top speed, blowing off some of his built up steam.

A new pack of cigarettes is offered in his direction, and he takes one, setting it to his lips as his friend goes for his lighter. “It’s almost Halloween,” Cid says, taking a seat on the bench, patting the spot next to him for Vincent to join, “you got any plans? Seems right up your alley, all the dark, spooky themes.”

Exhaling, he shakes his head. “Can’t say that I do. My Halloween is usually spent watching old horror movies.” With a sidelong glance to his friend, Vincent shifts so that he’s resting his elbow on his thigh, chin in his palm as two fingers hold the cigarette. “I’ve never had friends before, remember? Never had anyone to spend it with that wasn’t family.”

“You and Sephiroth don’t do nothing? Surprising.” Chaos bounces by them, carrying a stick in what seems to be a game of keep-away from a lazy looking mastiff.

Chuckling, the raven shakes his head. “Our family isn’t exactly _normal_ ,” he mutters, smoothing down a few strands of hair that pull from beneath his scarf, “besides, he mentioned a friend of his is throwing a party.”

“Oh yeah? You invited?”

“I could be, if I wanted, but I was hoping a certain chauffer might ask to spend time with me instead.”

Cid slings an arm over his shoulder, “aw, you should’ve just said so! How ‘bout I stop by, and we’ll watch some _newer_ horror movies. You can’t live your whole life only watching black-and-white movies, Vinny, welcome to the future. We have color films, and it ain’t even technicolor. You ever seen Nightmare Before Christmas?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“You’re gonna love it.”

Vincent hums, and leans his head onto a sturdy shoulder, black hair pooling into both of their laps. “Consider it a date, then,” he rests the back of his hand against Cid’s thigh, palm open in a silent request. It’s accepted with no fuss, the blonde swiftly interlocking his fingers with bony ones. “Though I must warn, I may be bit… despondent. This’ll be the tenth anniversary without my father.”

“I gotcha. I’ll be on my best behavior. We can just take it nice ‘n’ easy, split some food… You can do whatever you gotta, and I won’t judge.” Pulling his cigarette from his lips, he leans over, and places a swift kiss to ebony hair.

Vincent wakes early Halloween evening, slipping into the shower before his friend’s arrival, shivering with the lingering pain of scars and injuries long gone. His back aches, feeling as if it had been torn open to make space for unfurling wings, and, when he glances at himself in the mirror on the way to the shower, he half expects to see a pair of bat wings in the reflection. Thankfully, they’re not there.

Ice cold water is quick to snap him from his worries and fears, pulling his feet to solid ground before he begins to wash himself, running shampoo through his overgrown hair. With it straightened by the weight of the water, he briefly considers if it needs a trim, stopping just above his waist in such a state. Perhaps he should ask Sephiroth’s opinion, though, when he remembers just how long his brother’s hair is, he feels the opinion may be a bit weighted.

He’s still in the midst of his shower when there’s a knock to the door, but Cid knows he’s more than welcome to let himself in at this point. With the bathroom door open, it’s obvious enough what’s keeping him occupied, but he finds his friend calling over the water to him.

“Think you’ll be much longer, Vinny?” Huffing, he peeks his face through the edge of the shower curtain, ebony bangs plastered to his forehead as he pouts, “don’t give me that face, or I might just hop in with ya.”

Vincent’s face goes pink, and he disappears back onto the other side of the curtain. “Incorrigible,” he mutters, but he merely returns to the task at hand, reaching for the bottle of soap nestled into a hanging shelf.

Unexpectedly, the curtain peels back slightly, revealing a smirking Cid. “Sorry, I missed that. What did you say, Vince?” Startled, the raven tosses his wet washrag directly at the blonde’s face before going to cover himself as best as he can with one arm. He decides to cover his chest more than anything, accompanied by a shocked gasp. “Aw, come on, it’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

At their mention, the memories resurface, pulling a shiver from his lithe frame as his friend removes the washcloth from his features. “Either get in, or leave, Highwind,” he all but hisses, expecting the latter to occur, or neither. What he doesn’t expect is for Cid to actually take him up on the offer, but the next thing he knows, he’s climbing in, clothes already stripped.

“Hey, you offered, and I was already wet from the towel,” he says, smiling up at the raven, pretending he doesn’t see the issue, “figured you might like some help washing your back.”

Vincent knows better than to argue, and merely points to the bottle he’d been reaching for moments ago, before the interruption, turning around after with a pout set to his lips. Cid takes the chance to look at the label, finding scents of rose, sandalwood, vanilla, and bergamot listed beneath the image on the bottle. Pouring a small dollop onto the cloth, he realizes that this scent is the exact one he’d been catching the entire time he’d been close to Vincent. He immediately loves it all the more, finally having a name to the scent.

Gently, he runs the cloth over pale skin turned reddened from the shower, and once satisfied, goes to hand the towel back, but his friend merely turns around and prompts him to continue with a brief look down at himself. Cid smiles at him and takes his arm, before moving across to his chest, and then down, crouching to wash off slender legs. When he stands back up again, Vincent holds out the remainder of his left arm, yet says nothing.

It takes everything in himself to not panic at the offer. He knows just how much the scarring hurts, and how viscerally his friend could behave towards even the lightest touch to it. Like a backhand to the face, it strikes him then just how much Vincent _trusts_ him. With the lightest touch he can manage, he washes the marred skin, catching the way his body shivers and shakes at the sensation, but he never once flinches or pulls away, even as his expression changes to that of a frown.

“Does it hurt?” Cid asks, watching him with concerned eyes.

“It’s merely unpleasant,” he brushes his fingers across a stubbled chin, and then across a left cheekbone, “but I know you won’t hurt me.”

Once finished, he sets the washrag aside, and glances to the other bottles. “Did you already wash your hair?”

“Partially. I still need the conditioner,” he gestures to one of the golden bottles, “would you like to help with that as well?”

Cid’s already reaching for it as he asks, this one’s label merely listing the scent as honey, which made perfect sense, in hindsight. “Of course. How much should I need?” Once he’s managed the appropriate amount, he motions for the taller man to turn around, reaching up to run his hands through his smooth, black hair. It feels like silk between his fingers, though the water makes it cling to his hands and arms. When finished, Vincent reaches up, removing the showerhead from its mount on the wall to better get the conditioner from his hair.

“Towels are in the bathroom closet,” he tells his friend, “can you grab one for me as well?”

“Gotcha,” as he goes to leave, Cid leans in, placing a soft peck to one cheek, before climbing out. He finds Chaos sitting on the rug in front of the sink, his tail immediately starting to wag as they make eye contact. “Hey, boy,” he greets as he passes him by, grabbing a pair of red towels, “you being good?”

Chaos barks up at him as if to say _as ever!_ While he dries himself, leaning against the counter, he hears the shower turn off, and then Vincent pushes the curtain back, stepping out onto a rug. Cid wraps his own towel around himself, and then holds up the other for his friend, unfolded, and he merely walks forward into it, letting himself be wrapped into the soft fabric in turn. Mussing up his hair as he dries it, the blonde grins at him, and his heart skips several beats when he receives one in return.

Vincent had to know how beautiful he was, didn’t he? He could get anyone he wanted with those striking looks, handsome to no end, but here he was, settling for this simpleton of a man. Cid couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

His thoughts are cut short when the man in question leans down, brushing his lips over rougher ones, whispering “thank you,” and, as he pulls back, continues, “that was rather nice.” There’s an expression to his face that he’s never seen before, a tender, loving sort of thing that sets his eyes gentle, lips turning ever-so-slightly at the corners.

Oh, how Cid wants to take him right there, like an animal, and like a lover, all at once.

“Shall we start our movies then?” Vincent asks him as he retreats from the bathroom, patting his legs dry to avoid trailing water through the house. Chaos follows him, like a brown-and-black ghost with four legs, tail wagging. Cid gathers up his clothes, deciding he can just put them back on, considering they were fresh clean, and he’d showered immediately before leaving his own place, following his friend to his bedroom.

“Whenever you wanna.” Sitting himself down on the foot of his bed, the raven looks through a basket of clean laundry, taking a set of pajamas free from it. He briefly takes a sports bra into his hands, but ends up tossing it back. “Watching in here or the living room?”

“Television is larger out there, but you’re welcome to make that choice.”

“Hm,” Cid tries not to watch as his friend gets dressed, but he can’t ignore the magnetizing pull of sharp angles and sweeping curves, “laying down sounds nice, but the bigger screen…”

“You do know my couch pulls out, don’t you? It just isn’t the most comfortable thing to sleep on.” Vincent’s pants have to be drawn tight with the strings, so they don’t slip too far down his hips, and his friend briefly hopes he’s been eating enough. “We just have to move the coffee table.”

“Will it be big enough for Chaos too?” The dog barks at his inclusion, joyous.

“Of course,” moving to stand, he pulls his shirt on, and Cid can’t bite back the laugh at the design across the front. It’s comprised of two stereotypical ghosts, the bedsheet looking sort, with wide grins, framing a cursive font across the center of the shirt’s chest, and as he goes to pull his own clothes on, the blonde continues laughing, reading the writing aloud.

“ _Stop staring at my boos_ , Vinny, where’d you even get that?”

“Sephiroth’s friend,” Vincent tosses a couch cushion at him when he comes within range, “it’s warm, and usually no one sees me in it…”

“I think it’s cute, just like you.”

Ruby eyes roll, and he motions towards the coffee table for Cid to slide it backwards a foot or so. As he passes the raven by, he makes a swat at his rear, earning a surprised squeak in return, before he goes to move the table across the hardwood floor. Vincent goes to pull the bed portion out from the underside of the couch, though he finds it to be rather difficult with one arm.

He manages to unfold it once before his friend moves to help. “Sheets are in the top drawer of my dresser.” Pointing one bony finger in the direction of the bedroom, the raven steps out of the way to let him pass. “I’m going to order us something to eat. Any preferences?”

“Eh, as long as I don’t have to eat any of that weird vegetarian stuff you like, I can’t say that I care much.” Cid says, waving a hand dismissively. Chaos sits atop the bed, watching with curious eyes as the man stops to look at the dresser, finding that there is a pair of top drawers. Which one had Vincent meant, exactly? Hands on his hips, he looks between them, before shrugging slightly to himself and settling on the left side first.

That drawer proves to be full of underwear, and he shuts it quickly enough, face red as he catches sight of some… rather lacy pairs. Must be the next one then, of course. Naturally, the sheets are mostly in dark shades, and he grabs a red set before shutting the drawer, returning to the living room with the shepherd on his heels. Vincent leans against the dining table, bent at the waist with his arm resting on the surface, phone in his hand.

“Found your underwear,” sliding the fitted sheet onto the mattress, he looks up to catch crimson eyes staring back, “opened the wrong drawer by mistake.”

Without missing a beat, the other man merely says, “by the blush on your cheeks, you must’ve seen something you liked.”

Spluttering in return, “just saw some fancy pairs, is all. Lace ‘n’ shit. Didn’t take you for the type, Vinny.”

“My gender is a finicky beast. Besides, I do rather like feeling nice when I’m bleeding out on a monthly basis.”

Cid nods, throwing the other sheet over the mattress before going to tuck it on three sides, the dog jumping up to lay uselessly in the center. “Mind if I… ask you a few questions ‘bout all that?”

“Hm? About which part, Cid?”

“The gender bit, not your menstrual cycle.” Vincent wrinkles his nose up at the latter half, and returns to sliding his thumb over his phone screen with a gentle nod for him to continue. “I’ve been calling you the right things this whole time, yeah?”

“Of course, I would have corrected you otherwise. Pronouns are very forgiving things in my case, I’m generally okay with anything, provided as it is respectful. Masculine is merely how most refer to me, so it’s how I often introduce myself, for the sake of simplicity.” He types something with practiced efficiency into his phone, before setting it aside. “I hope this doesn’t confuse you.”

Shrugging, the blonde comes to stand on the opposite side of the table, “a little bit, honestly, but, hey, if you’re happy, that’s all that matters to me.” But he takes Vincent by the hand, leading him towards the newly setup pullout bed, “sit, I’ll get blankets and pillows.”

They settle down into a bundled pile of soft fabric and tangled limbs, Vincent’s pale frame caged in by his legs as he leans back, head on a strong chest with closed eyes as Cid searches for the movie on the streaming app. Idle conversation overtakes them, deciding to delay the movie’s beginning until their food arrives. When the knock to the door finally arrives, the raven lets his friend slide out from beneath him, even if does whine softly at the loss of warmth.

Cid takes the leather wallet from the top of the dresser before slipping his own from his coat pocket so that they could split the pay as negotiated. However, when he opens the door, he finds himself coming face-to-face with Sephiroth, an uncharacteristic look of surprise on his features for a moment before he narrows his cat-like green eyes down at the blonde.

Sephiroth pushes past him and into the apartment. “What are you doing here?” He demands, voice catching the attention of his brother who rises from the bed, feet quiet on the floor, and the blonde gapes up at him, startled. “Well? Give me an answer.”

Gathering himself, the older man straightens his back, all but squaring up with the silver-haired man. “Don’t tell me what to do, you ain’t my boss. We’re watching movies, you know, like friends do.”

Once his brother approaches, the youngest of them turns his gaze to him instead. “I wasn’t aware you had made friends,” there’s a sort of bite to Sephiroth’s voice, one that makes the elder Valentine flinch at both the raised tone and the audible jealousy boils behind his words, “the anniversary of our father’s death, and you’re on a date?”

“Outta line, kid,” Cid hisses, stepping between the brothers, “Vincent is allowed to make his own choices, he’s an adult. Besides, aren’t you’re supposed to be spending time with friends today too? Don’t be a hypocrite.”

“Only because they’re making me. I certainly tried to get out of it. Do you think I enjoy being away from my brother on an evening such as this? I should be the one by his side, not _you_ ,”

“Gods, you sound like such a prick! As long as he’s happy, what’s it matter? He can handle his own emotions in his own ways, dickhead! Ain’t like he’s hurtin’ nobody!”

“Sephiroth, I hadn’t meant to upset you,” everything about Vincent reads as apologetic; his tensed shoulders, lowered head, eyes unable to meet that green gaze. “I had figured that, since you had made plans, I should do the same. That you had decided it was ample time to move on, and I should do the same.”

“Move on? Vincent, we cannot merely _move on_ from our father’s death,” before he can say anything further, someone clears their throat, and they turn to see a woman in the doorway, the men having left it open in their argument, a bag of food in her hands. Sephiroth rolls his eyes and moves to pass her. “Highwind, was it? If you so much as even _think_ about hurting my brother, I will make sure your life in this city is _over_.”

And as quickly as he’d arrived, he’s leaving, heavy steps echoing down the hallway. Cid watches him go before paying the woman, slipping her an extra tip for having to bear witness to the outburst. Shutting the door behind them, he escorts Vincent back to the bed, setting the food down on the coffee table.

“I… apologize. I hadn’t been expecting him.”

Snorting, the blonde sets himself down on the pullout bed, and pats the space between his thighs for his friend to return. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for, Vince, it was him who was in the wrong. Marching in here like he owns the place.”

When Vincent doesn’t return to the bed, Cid glances up at him with worried eyes, finding that his friend is standing in place, arm wrapped around himself with a shameful, solemn expression. Pushing gently, the blonde calls his name once, shockingly quiet. It pulls the taller man from his stupor just enough for him to say, “perhaps this was a mistake,”

“Bah, come on, Vinny, let’s just let it go. Get some food in you, I’m sure you’ll feel better after, and then we can-”

“No, Cid, I meant _this_ ,” crimson eyes fixate on the space between the both of them, though they still seem out of focus. Cid tries to ignore the way his breath catches in his lungs, and he pleads to himself that this isn’t about to turn out how he’s expecting. “I have been nothing but problem after problem for you. Perhaps I merely was not built to have friends,” his voice is cracking, eyes watery, “all those that care for me end up hurt. I cannot do that to you as well.”

Chaos paws at one leg, trying to pull his attention towards him, pull him back down to earth. If he notices the dog, he doesn’t show it, and, instead, wavers on his legs, swaying gently in place, as if all sense of balance has left him. When the blonde rises to argue with him, Vincent tenses in place, digging his nails into his left bicep.

“Please! Just leave me! I fear that I care for you too much, and I can’t bear to lose you,”

“So you’re just gonna push me away? Vincent, it just doesn’t add up! You don’t wanna lose me, but you want me gone? Where’s the sense in that, dumbass! You ain’t got any sense left in that scrawny body of yours!”

“If you care for me too, Cid, you’ll leave. Please,” and, when he opens his mouth to press the matter further, the raven merely repeats, voice hardly even a whisper, “ _please_ ,”

Deciding to play along, at the very least for Vincent’s sake, he gathers his things, sure that he’ll hear something from him in the coming days. As he goes to slip out the door, his friend is already waiting for him by it, opening it for him. It shuts behind him with the sound of a lock turning in place.

He feels his heart shatter when he hears a lamenting wail erupt from the other side of the apartment door, and he wishes he hadn’t of yelled like the fool he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos!
> 
> Edit: forgot to say the both the story and chapter titles are from the Black Match song "Nowhere" oops


	2. Longing to be Heard and Longing to be Seen

A knock to the door startles both mother and son, and Cid climbs to his feet, headed to the door so she doesn’t have to bother. Distantly, a piece of him hopes and pleas that on the other side of that door he’ll find that otherworldly man, dog by his side. It’s been three weeks since Halloween, and still no word has reached him from his friend. Briefly, he’d considered sending a text Sephiroth’s way, asking for him to check in and report back, but ultimately reconsiders when he remembers who exactly had put him into his predicament, as well as the threat the silver-haired man had left on.

Who he finds on the other side is an entirely different surprise. “Jack?” Cid inquires, genuinely caught off guard when he comes eye-to-eye with the youngest Highwind brother, his dirty blonde hair tussled by the autumn breeze, hands shoved in his pants pockets. “What’re you doing here? And without a coat? Come in, before you catch your death,” stepping aside, he pulls his brother into the house, where the warmth is plentiful, “you came all the way here from Cosmo Canyon?” There’s a rental car in front of their house, and he calculates just how far his brother must’ve come.

Rubbing his hands together, the younger man nods his head, looking every bit as nervous as he must feel, “yeah, what’re you doing here?”

“I should be the one askin’ that. _I_ moved back in with Ma to save up some cash for college. You?”

“I, uh,” Jack shifts in place, looking around the entry, “man, old place looks exactly the same.” Same hutch, same photos, same rug… “I came for the cemetery visit, actually. Didn’t call ahead ‘cause I figured y’all would yell at me for the audacity of it.”

“Good call. It’s just you? Didn’t manage to pull Eric with you?”

“Nah,” his expression is a sour one, “damn man’s much too comfortable in his new life in Costa Del Sol.”

“Go see Ma.” Cid gestures over his shoulder towards the living room. “I’ll set up a guest room. We’ll catch up over lunch, yeah?”

“Yeah,” the younger brother gives him half a smile, “thanks Cid.”

As always, his brother had arrived impeccably at both too early and nearly too late. It’s the very next day that their family heads off to the cemetery, flowers clutched in their mother’s arms. She passes a bouquet to the eldest son halfway through the walk, stringing an arm together with the younger son’s to keep her aging legs stable up a steep set of stairs.

“Here we are,” Jack says, guiding his mother towards the graves, side-by-side, moss clinging to one gravestone. She kneels by the older stone, muttering soft words towards the earth where her husband had been buried years prior. Gently, she hands him the other bouquet, motioning for him to place it in front.

Cid turns towards the other headstone, “hey, Alex,” he says as he places the flowers down, “betcha were starting to think we forgot ‘bout ya, huh? But even our baby brother’s come by this time.” Briefly, he considers brushing the moss free from his brother’s grave. Alex would have liked it, though, found the beauty in life coming from death, but, as the blonde thinks about such poetic things, he can’t help but find his thoughts drifting towards his friend.

In his pocket, his phone vibrates, and he reaches for it excitedly, hopeful. It’s merely Rufus, surprise, surprise, and he grunts as he puts it back. “Youd’ve known what to tell me,” he sighs, dropping to kneel with one knee in the soft grass, still wet from the morning’s rain, “I wish you were still with us. Whole family’s fallen apart without you.”

Of course, no one talks back, there’s no voice on the wind, nothing carries out from beneath the earth, but he knew his brother well enough to know what he could’ve expected. _You’ll figure things out, Cid,_ he recalls the eldest Highwind child saying to him, years back after Shera had called off their engagement, _you always do. You’re a bright guy, even if you can be a bit thickheaded._

_Just gotta give her space, and if she wants to work things out, she’ll come talk to you. And if she don’t? Then she just ain’t the one, it’s a good thing you figured that out ahead of time. It’ll save you a lot of heartache._

She, of course, never came asking, leaving him with his bad habits and vices on his lonesome. It was fair enough to say his life turned out a lot differently than the two of them had been envisioning all that time ago. No house on the hill, no kids in the yard, just a washed-up man, hunched over at a grave, talking at a block of stone with his brother’s name carved into it, like that made it human enough to understand.

“Vincent, please, you have to eat,” Sephiroth begs, pushing open the door to his brother’s room to find him curled up under the covers still, looking just as he had the day before, and the one prior. Even when he’d managed to pry his brother from his bed, to persuade him into the shower, he’d always return to the same curled up position. Hissing through a sigh, he says, “you’re being unreasonable.”

Dull red eyes drift up to him, distant, and they seem to stare straight through him rather than at him. The expression sends a shiver through his body. “Unreasonable?” He croaks, voice hoarse from disuse. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to upset you.”

Under the weight of the silver-haired man, the bed dips as he sits on the edge, one hand resting on his brother’s calf once he pulls the pants leg down from where it had become bundled at the knee. “I hadn’t meant it like that.” Chaos whines up at him from beside the raven, eyes sad as he lays his head down on a slim waist. “Please, Vincent, I just want you to be happy.”

“You hadn’t seemed to feel that way a bit ago,” there’s a crack to his voice, like he’d shattered the cords from all his sobbing, “we both have different ways of managing pain, you’ve said it before. All I had wanted was to spend the day with my friend, father wouldn’t have wanted me to spend my whole life mourning over him.

“Though that doesn’t much matter now, does it? I’ve gone and scared him off, he’s never even texted me all this time. Probably deleted my contact, and I can’t say that I blame him. I’m rather broken, after all, what’s the use of keeping something so damaged around?”

Sephiroth brushes a lock of ebony hair from his face, tucking it behind a pierced ear, “come now, you don’t need him. You have me.”

“But… you don’t understand.”

“Oh? Enlighten me, then.”

“I believe that I… might love him, brother. I’ve never been very close with anyone before, but I always find myself wishing for nothing but his happiness, and I crave nothing more than being able to wake up each day to him by my side. But it’s become rather clear he wouldn’t feel the same if I were to tell him.”

His brother stays silent for a moment too long, drawing Vincent to shift enough to look at him face on, face drawn into a concerned sort of expression, twisted with sorrow and pain. “I’ve often felt as an outsider, a creature outside the window, peering into the lives of others, and the hurt I feel is unreasonable. I would never wish anyone to be burdened by my feelings, but… I had thought Cid may be different, he’d always been so willing to help me, shouldering weight I had no right to ask of him.”

Still, Sephiroth says nothing.

Bones ache beneath his skin, as if they’re twisting and contorting into something unhuman, drawing a panicked rush of his heart. He feels as if there’s a monster coming over him, about to erupt forth from his own flesh, devouring him from the inside out, and his chest, though it feels so _hollow_ beats with heavy blood. Voices scream in his head, begging for mercy, for forgiveness, for survival, but he feels his teeth gnash against each other, much too sharp to be real, and tastes the metallic of blood on his tongue.

He’s bitten his own tongue, a canine piercing the end. Nearly choking on the taste, he draws the covers closer, burying his face into the soft fabric, and his left arm _aches_. 

“Please, brother, please say something,” his chest draws a heavy, shaking breath as he nearly screeches, “are you going to leave too?”

“No, Vincent, I would never.”

The elder brother exhales, eyes watering, “thank you,” and then the silver-haired man stands to his feet, searching through dresser drawers for a nice set of clothes. When he sets them down, and Vincent merely stares at them blankly from beneath the covers, unblinking.

Sephiroth sighs and hefts his brother to sit up, mindful to not wrench his arm, and goes to slip his shirt off, “will you help me so that I may put this on you, or would you rather do it yourself?” The younger Valentine asks, holding up a loose sports bra. With a distant expression unwavering, Vincent leans forward, helping as best as he can manage in the state he’s in. Then a clean shirt is pulled over his shoulders and arms, buttoned up to his neck, the left sleeve gathered. He manages to help a bit more with the pants, going so far as to button it on his own. Sephiroth pulls a pair of socks over his cold feet, and then leads him towards the door.

Chaos follows behind them, and he secures his vest into place, latching the leash and wrapping it around one arm. “Put your shoes on,” he says, and the raven does so, confused, “come now.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll have to wait to see.” Sephiroth says as he pulls his phone from his pocket, texting something to someone, before interlocking his arm together with his brother’s.

When the door knocks again that evening, Jack goes to get it, half expecting to find more extended family, or to see the last Highwind brother, hands shoved into his coat pockets as he scowls at him from beneath brown bangs. He instead, comes face-to-face with a pair of men he’s never met before, a dog by their sides, and he spies to bright red lettering across the dog’s vest.

“Can I help you?” He asks, one brow arched.

“Is Cid Highwind in?” Replies the taller of the duo.

Jack nods and steps back to invite them in, “yeah, leave your shoes at the door.”

“Apologies for the unannounced visit,” the silver-haired man says as he slips his rather expensive shoes off, his companion looking especially out of place, “but I fear the matters could not have waited any longer.”

What a strange pair. Shrugging, the younger man leads them from the entry, and down the hall. “It’s fine. We’ve got a buncha guests anyways. Hey, Cid!” There’s no response, but one of his younger cousins pulls at the bottom of his shirt to catch his attention, before pointing to the door leading out to the garage. He ruffles her hair in thanks, and pulls the door back on its hinges. “Yo, bro!”

There’s a crash, accompanied by a thud, and then a string of curses. “Jack! What the fuck, boy, I’m under a car! Don’t go ‘round screamin’!” He watches as his brother rubs at his forehead from where he sits on a rolling creeper seat, clearly having smacked it against the frame of the vehicle he was working on. “What could be so ungodly important you feel the need to scare your brother?”

“You’ve got guests.”

“Eh?” Cid climbs to his feet, groaning as something in his back pops. As his brother disappears back into the house, he goes to scale the short flight of stairs. When he pushes the door back, he doesn’t expect to come face-to-chin with distantly familiar pale skin, and startlingly recognizable silver hair. “Oh shit, Sephiroth?”

Stepping back to get a better look at the younger man, he finds him scowling down at him, green eyes narrowed. Chaos is by his side, standing between him and… “Vinny!” Cid exclaims, restraining himself from just rushing forward and sweeping the raven off his feet.

His skin looks gaunt over his face, a pallor to him that seems out of place even on his porcelain-pale skin, the space beneath his eyes worryingly dark. When that crimson gaze settles on him fully, dark and sad, it’s a panicked sort of look, as if he thinks the blonde is about to eat him for whatever issues he’s been working through.

Instead, he merely steps forward, knees brushing against Chaos’s coarse fur, and he takes his hand, pulling him close as he wraps both arms around his frighteningly frail frame. “And here I was, startin’ to worry I’d never hear from you,” Vincent seems tense in his arms, like he’s never even felt physical contact before, “boy am I glad to see you! A sight for sore eyes, that’s for damn sure.”

With a shuddering breath, his friend relaxes into his hold, his head leaning down to rest against Cid’s own, “you aren’t upset with me?”

Holding the man out at arm’s length, he looks him in the eye with a dumbfounded sort of expression, “you’re kidding.” A shake of the head. “You thought I was angry? Vinny, come on, I was worried ‘bout ya! I was starting to think something bad’d happened, like you’d gotten hurt.”

“You aren’t upset,” Vincent repeats, more in shock of realization than anything, before, “you’ve been waiting for me? I thought that… you never said anything, so I had feared you wanted nothing more to do with me.”

“Didn’t wanna chase ya, or make you scared. Come on, come here, you look like a mess,” he tugs the taller man behind him, in the direction of the living room, “I’m sure you could use something to eat, huh? None of my family’s vegetarian, but I’m sure we can work somethin’ out, yeah?”

Both younger brothers watch as the duo disappears through the archway and into the next room. Jack rubs at the back of his head, “boy, do I ever feel like I’m missin’ something.”

Sephiroth rolls his eyes in return, and soon catches Cid’s voice a few rooms away.

“Ma, hey, Ma,”

“What is it, boy?” Turning to glance over her shoulder, Momma Highwind sees her son standing there, hand-in-hand with a man she’s never met before. She arches a brow, and Vincent decides, with the incredulous sort of look on her face, and her strong brows, the two of them are certainly related.

Cid takes his hand away to pat at his companion’s arm, “this is Vincent, my friend,” before then he points down to the shepherd sitting politely down by his feet, “and that’s his service dog, Chaos. You’ve been sayin’ you wanted to meet my friend for a bit now, so here you go!”

Jane chuckles, shaking her head as she goes to wash her hands clean of the chicken she’s been working with. “I didn’t know you were having guests over.”

“Yeah, it was a little last minute.”

“Well what’s another mouth to feed when there’s already damn near two dozen of us already.” She offers her hand out for him to take after drying on a kitchen towel. Vincent takes it gently, nodding a soft thanks for the hospitality. “You’re all bone, boy! We’ll have to fix that. Go sit down, we’ll have dinner done in a moment.”

Vincent hesitates when Cid doesn’t move to follow him, instead going to wash up in the sink, cleaning grease and oil from his arms and hands. “Go on,” he shrugs towards the living room, “the kids don’t bite. Well, the toddler does, but only if she don’t like you.”

As soon as the rest of the room takes notice of him and Chaos, there’s a chorus of children exclaiming overlapping cries of “doggie!” or “puppy!” One adult manages to grab an armful of kids, Vincent recognizing him as the man who’s gotten the door for them on their arrival when he tosses his hair from his eyes, looking up.

“Now, kids, that dog’s got a job to do. We don’t distract nobody from their work, yeah? Come on,” Jack says up to him, “you can sit. They just get excited. Your, uh… that white-haired guy? He left, told me to tell you to text him if you needed to go. Whew, that was a mouthful.” A gaggle of kids laugh at him, “oh yeah? Think that’s funny, huh? Well what do you think of this!”

With a grin, the youngest Highwind brother sweeps up two of the children, each under one arm, and twist them around in his hold until they’re hanging upside down. Shaking them gently, they giggle and cry out. As he continues to rough them up, an older kid, probably nine or ten comes to hover near Vincent, reading the side of Chaos’s vest.

“Ser-vice dog? What’s that mean?”

“He helps me,” Vincent answers, feeling a strange combination of panic and adoration at this interaction. At the end of the day, he really did like kids, he was just bad at handling them for the most time. They tend to be overwhelming, and he’s easily overwhelmed.

Putting one finger to her chin, the kid then goes “what’s he help you with?”

“He can open doors for me, turn off and on lights, grab things… he’s also trained to help me stay calm if I get nervous. See how he’s resting his head on me like this?” Gesturing down to the dog, his chin propped on his right knee, the kid nods. “He knows I’m a bit anxious, so he’s keeping me relaxed.”

“Oooh. That’s neat! How did you lose your arm? Is that what makes you scared?”

“Charlotte!” A woman calls, despairingly, and comes to crouch by the girl’s side. “I’m so sorry. Charlie, you shouldn’t ask people things like that.”

“It’s alright,” Vincent says with a dismissive wave of his hand, “I prefer it when people are straightforward about it. Might I answer her?”

She looks down at her daughter, who nods a confirmation that, yes, she really does want to know. The woman then nods as well, a silent permission for him to continue. “I was in a car wreck a long time ago.” Brown eyes go wide, like dinner plates, and he’s quick to clarify. “It was a sort of a freak accident, however, a very unlucky thing I doubt could be easily replicated. You’ve nothing to worry for.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes, but mostly if I fall asleep on top of it. Have you ever had your leg fall asleep before?” She wrinkles her nose up at the memory of the feeling, nodding. “It’s sort of like that, in that case.”

Charlotte hums in thought, teetering back and forth on her heels as she gives the information a once-over. “Can I pet your dog?”

Vincent has to give that a moment’s thought in turn, before he moves to undo Chaos’s harness, “yes, but if he has the vest on, you have to resist. I know he is very cute, but he does have work to be done.”

She gives a vigorous show of affirmation in the form of a nod that practically shakes her entire body, and she crouches down to pet along Chaos’s side. Her mother takes a seat beside him on the couch, watching as the horde of children migrate towards the dog.

“Thank you for humoring her.”

“Of course. I take it this is some sort of family reunion? Are you related to Cid then?”

“I’m his cousin, Becca. And you are?”

“Vincent, his friend,” he offers his hand, and she gently takes it, “what is the occasion? If I may ask.”

Becca leans back as a bundle of kids run off, Chaos bounding behind them, tail wagging. One of the other adult family members tells them to be mindful, and take it out into the yard. Charlotte looks his way to ensure it’s okay for the dog to go with them, to which he merely waves a hand. She smiles, calling for the dog to follow them out to the fenced in yard.

Several parents shake their heads at the energy before a pair rises to go supervise. Chuckling, the woman shifts in her seat to rest her back against the arm of the couch. “Each year, a week ahead of Thanksgiving, the family visits the cemetery to pay their respects. We then spend the rest of the day together, enjoying one another’s company.”

“Sounds rather pleasant,”

“Do you do anything like this with your family?”

Vincent draws his brows together, turning his gaze to the floor. “It’s merely my brother and I now,” she immediately looks apologetic, and he decides to leave it at that. “I… apologize. I have been in a rather morose mood as of late.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright. I hope the night helps you cheer up, some. It gets rather lively in here at times.” Watching his fingers as he traces the embroidered lettering in the dog’s vest, sat flat in his lap, Becca moves to stand. “Dinner should be done soon! I hope you stick around for it. I’m going to make sure the kids are behaving.”

He gives a curt nod, focusing his eyes on a spot in the rug beneath the coffee table. An undisclosed amount of time later, a smaller gaggle of children reemerge into the living room, following after Chaos, settling to congregate in front of his legs. A few of them as rapid questions about his dog, to which he tries to answer as best he can, hand petting behind the dog’s ears. Before he realizes, a pair of kids are climbing onto the couch beside him, alternating back and forth with various sorts of inquiries about himself. _Where are you from? How long have you lived in Midgar? Is this really your hair? Why are you so pale? Are you sick?_

Someone parts the sea of children, reaching down to take Vincent gently by the hand, “come on, brats, time to eat. Let my friend breathe.” A couple of them go _ewww_ as Cid draws him close by the hand, placing a swift kiss to his temple. “Oh, you don’t like that? Guess I’ll just have to do it again!”

They flee like a herd of startled deer, leaving the blonde to laugh, and the raven is pulled into a partial embrace. “They’re rather lively,” Vincent says.

“Yeah. To think, I thought I was ready for one of those a few years back.” Cid shakes his head and leads him towards the backyard, which has been set up with various tables, glinting string lights hanging above them, and a gentle fire in the pit with a guard thrown up around it to protect the children. “There isn’t a whole lot you can eat, unfortunately, but I hope it’s enough. I’d bet you haven’t been eating well these last few weeks. What suddenly spurred you to come here?”

“It was Sephiroth’s idea.”

“Really?” Cid snorts, “color me surprised. I was under the impression he hated me.” He continues walking, but then he’s suddenly stopped in place when his arm is tugged from Vincent suddenly halting in place. When he turns to look at him, he finds that the man is standing still, his arm extended out to where their hands were still interlaced, a distant sort of glaze in his eyes as he stares at the ground, his normally stoic expression worried, though blushing in the soft glow of the fairy lights.

“I’m very sorry about my behavior before, I truly am. I can’t say what exactly had possessed me to beave in such a manner, but I had never intended to hurt you,”

“Vinny, it’s okay.”

“No, Cid, I need to say this. Please, let me.” Upon no further complaint, he continues. “As I’ve said, I’ve never had a friend before. I became so caught up in you getting hurt by my own issues, I’d managed to convince myself you’d be better off without me. Was I wrong to think such things?”

Sighing, the blonde steps closer, careful to never once seem like he was going to pull away. “Better off without you? Vincent, you’re probably my best friend by now, and a damn good friend in general. These last couple’a weeks? I haven’t known what to do with myself.”

Humming softly, the taller man leans closer, his forehead resting against Cid’s shoulder, unwavering as always. “I… had convinced myself you would never feel the same way of me that I felt of you, but you’ve welcomed me into your home, alongside your family, uninvited. Around you, I feel as if I am finally on the inside, no longer just staring through someone else’s window and into a life I could never have.

“At the very least, if you do not return my feelings, I hope we can remain friends, but I should be honest, and tell you something I should have said weeks ago rather than merely toss you out of my apartment to lament in solitude.” Pulling back enough to lock eyes with him once, he then drifts his attentions elsewhere, looking anywhere that isn’t the rugged features of his friend. “Cid Highwind, I fear that I may love you, though I cannot say to which degree, or in which form. I just know that I never want you to leave my side again.

“So, please, will you stay with me?”

With bright eyes and an expression he’s only seen once before on the blonde’s face, the first night they’d kissed, Cid reaches up, wrapping one arm around the top of slender shoulders, before taking the other away from it’s interlocked position with Vincent’s, placing it atop his other arm, and pulls the raven down to eliminate any space remaining between them. He presses his lips to his friend’s, “Vinny, I ain’t ever gonna leave your side. Not unless you really want me to,” crimson eyes immediately turn fiery, pale lips parting, “and, I know, you never want me to go.”

There’s a deafening chorus of high voices crying _“ewwww, Uncle Ciiiid”_ , and the man in questions pulls away, grinning down at his nieces, nephews, and other various extended family members.

“Oh hush, the lot of ya. Go get your dinner,” he waves them away, though his smile never once falters, “scoot, move it, skedaddle. Come on, Vince, let’s go sit down.”

They settle down at a table where Cid’s brother and mother have already seated themselves. Chaos puts himself politely between Vincent’s leg and the blonde’s once they take their chairs, though he’s still unleashed and unharnessed. From a few spots up the table, Jack starts, “you coulda just _said_ he was your boyfriend, Cid, we wouldn’ta judged.”

“Good to see you back in the game after Shera,” adds in a cousin, who claps him on the back as he passes the blonde by. 

Glancing to the side, the blonde catches crimson eyes, and receives a curt nod. “Yeah, heh, well… We were working through something.”

Convincing Vincent to stay the night is a simple enough task, though it’s made easier by Sephiroth seemingly already having fallen asleep, not responding to the texts sent his way by both parties. There’s a plethora of offers to drive him home all the same, but each one is met with a glare from Cid, and, by the third try, the raven has caught on. All the same, he’s quite content staying the night in his boyfriend’s -oh, his heart flutters to call him such a thing- bed.

Speaking of, Cid appears in the doorway, in the middle of brushing his teeth. “You wanna borrow a shirt? Change outta your nice button-up?” He receives a nod in response and goes to search through his dresser, holding his toothbrush in his mouth as he rifles between clothes. “It’s gonna be big on you, but here,” tossing a large blue camouflage shirt the raven’s way, he leans back against the dresser, shutting the drawer with his weight, “though I know you like to sleep in the buff.”

A blush creeps over pale cheeks. “I’m certainly not doing that in another person’s home, Cid!” If he could cross his arms, he would, but instead he settles for a huff, slumping over with a cross expression. “What sort of deviant do you take me for? A harlot?”

“Bold of you to assume I know what that means, Vinny.” At the roll of crimson eyes, he slips from the room, only to return a moment later, to take his boyfriend’s hand into his own. “Let’s take a shower. I’ve had a long day.”

When the raven takes too long to manage to his feet, he’s merely swept up into strong arms, to which he yelps in surprise, but allows himself to be carried out from the room and into the one right next door. As soon as he’s set down, calloused fingers start to undo his shirt for him, dropping it to the floor. His bony hand rises to find the end of Cid’s shirt, pulling up over his head before they both set to undoing one another’s pants, the last thing free from either of them being the loose bra constricting pale breasts. As they undress one another, they kiss and nip at one another, though nothing becomes to heated.

Vincent pulls his body away, taking a tissue from the box on the countertop and reaches forward to wipe a spot of toothpaste from the corner of Cid’s mouth. Tsking his tongue, the raven shakes his head. “You’re a mess,” he says, leaning back against the counter, finding that his arm brush against a set of towels. Cid must’ve placed them there when he had gone to brush his teeth.

“Yeah, but you love it. Plus, you don’t look much better sometimes, like after a certain someone pulls your hair the way you like.” Fully aware there’s no use in trying to fight off the blush returning to his face, he merely turns himself around, hiding his face as he goes to draw the shower curtain back. Cid laughs, and he hears him step a bit closer, before there’s suddenly a soft swat to his rear.

Vincent yelps, straightening his back like he’d heard a gunshot. “Cid!”

“Hey, we got the whole floor to ourselves. Ma’s on the ground level, and everyone else is at hotels. Of course I’m gonna mess with ya.”

“Are you just planning on teasing me the whole night?”

“Oh-ho-ho, Vinny! You got somethin’ in mind?” Leaning down, the blonde inquires, placing an arm on each side of a slender torso, and presses his weight slightly against the lighter man. Nipping once at a back of a sharp jaw, he then moves around to places a chaste kiss against rosy lips.

“Depends on a few factors,” replies his boyfriend, a light hand settling on his waist.

Bumping their foreheads together, he arches one brow. “Yeah? Share with the class, wontcha?”

Vincent turns his head away so that his lips brush against the shell of Cid’s ear. “Did you ever get around to picking up condoms?” Damn, if those words don’t stir something up inside of him…

“Sure did, babe,” he lets himself be pulled into a kiss, reaching to turn the shower handles so water starts pouring down, “but you’re gonna have to wait until after we wash up. I’d say sorry, but I ain’t. Gives me more of a chance to mess with you.”

Cid steps back into the tub, and then leads the taller man to follow, hands steadying him at the hips as his legs seem to shake from anticipation. There’s a quiet moment as the water temperature is adjusted so that a warm stream falls to pale shoulders, gentle enough not to scald, though warm enough it turns the skin pink. In the brighter lighting of the townhouse, the blonde can make out faint constellations of freckles across the expanse of his body, placed in random, haphazard locations like an afterthought, absolutely no rhyme or reason.

“You’re absolutely breathtakin’, you know that?” Leaning up, he places a quick peck to parting lips, and turns around to grab a washcloth and a bar of soap.

Vincent scoffs. “You may need to get your eyes checked,”

“You’re kiddin’ me, right?” Taking the now-soapy cloth, he rubs it soothingly over his boyfriend’s shoulders. “You’re one of the prettiest people I’ve ever damn seen. How can you not see it?”

“I suppose it’s merely my crippling depression.”

Rolling his eyes, Cid glides the washrag across his chest, and then down gently curved sides. “Come on, babe, lookit you. You could get anyone you wanted, dunno why you’ve settled for someone as plain lookin’ as me.”

Stilling his hand, he takes the cloth so that he’s paid full attention. “Cid, you don’t get to call me pretty, and then put yourself down. I love everything about the way you look. Well, except for when you shave,”

“Oh?”

“I like your facial hair. It’s nice,” as if to make a point, slender fingers brush over his chin, catching against the short stubble, “when you shave, I always find myself missing it.”

Laughing, the blonde takes the towel back, and resumes where he’d left off. “Yeah? My ex hated it. Said it made me look like a hooligan.” Taking Vincent by the hip, he turns him around, collecting his long hair to pull it over one shoulder before washing his back. There’s a collection of scars to his shoulder blades, and one that swipes across his lumbar, but they’re mostly faded, and mostly only noticeable under his fingers. “Though, to be fair, I kinda was back then! All the trouble I used to get into.”

“You? Trouble? I can’t envision it.” As the towel is dragged down his legs, the raven glances his way, catching him taking a long look at his rear. He snorts, pulling the blonde from whatever thoughts lingered on his brain, before holding his hand out for the towel. Renewing the bodywash, Cid slips it into his waiting palm, and holds his arms out in a welcoming sort of gesture. It’s dragged across his left arm first, then to his shoulder, and across his chest, before down his right arm.

As Vincent works his way across his upper half, he places a dollop of shampoo in his palm, and works it through the long ebony locks, watching as crimson eyes close for a moment, accompanied by a pleased hum. With the scents of the soaps being as fresh as they were, he can make out cinnamon and cedarwood, among a few lighter smells.

Once finished with the shampooing portion, the blonde turns around, letting his back be washed down as he grabs for the bottle again. When he’s been sufficiently cleaned, he gets the raven to take a step back under the shower’s stream, washing the soap from his hair, before holding the bottle out in a silent offer. He deposits a short amount of shampoo into the outstretched hand, and then its gently worked through his short hair, darkened by the water, while he runs his own fingers through the silky black hair, ensuring no suds remain.

When they’re both properly washed up and the conditioner has been managed, Vincent finds himself being pressed up against the shower wall, strong arms holding him still as Cid gently grinds against him, earning soft moans that are swallowed by a greedy sort of kiss. Once he’s let go, and the water turned off, he’s left standing breathless for a short moment, the blonde gathering up their towels.

One of them is stretched open between calloused hands, waiting for him, “come on, I wanna make up for all this lost time.” Using the wall to support his balance as he steps out from the tub, he places himself into the soft fabric, letting himself be swaddled into it. A smaller towel is placed atop his head before Cid ruffles his hair, wicking away most of the remaining water, though it leaves his hair, once straightened by the water, messy and tangled. It’s not a far cry from his normal, everyday half-curls, but it makes him huff indignantly, nonetheless.

Upon their return to the bedroom, they find Chaos asleep on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, nose buried beneath his tail. Lifting the taller man, Cid slips him onto the bed, and then he pulls away, reaching into the bedside table’s drawer, extracting a small box from it, alongside a cylindrical tube, “can you get yourself ready for me?” Certainly not needing a second request, the raven slips his towel free from himself. Watching Vincent tease himself, already slightly slick from eagerness, and then work a finger into himself, is more than enough to help Cid from half-mast to fully hard. He’d clearly been giving this practice at some point, though he seems to have some difficulty locating the same sensitive spots Cid had managed before.

Sometime in the future, he’d have to set aside some time to help teach him, but, as Cid slides the condom over himself, that’s certainly that’s far from being the most important matters at hand.

“You’re sure you want this?” He asks before Vincent rolls his eyes up at him, and reaches pulls his fingers free, reaching down to help him put the latex into place.

“More than sure,” the raven says, “I want you, Cid, horribly so. I’ve been unable to remove you from my mind, and my fingers can’t do nearly enough for what I need.”

Ignoring the way his face heats at the confession, the blonde pushes his friend down to the mattress, spreading his legs apart with calloused hands. “What exactly do you need, Vinny?” Ghosting the tip of one finger along soft folds, Cid tests how wet the other is, and is pleasantly surprised to find he’s already practically dripping. They might not need the lube, then. Vincent gasps at the touch, grinding his hips down, but the finger pulls away. “You gotta tell me, or you’re not getting _anything_.”

Hissing at the denial of that sweet friction he so badly craves, Vincent merely grabs his friend by his shoulders, tugging him down to catch his lips in a brief, though desperate, kiss. “You,” he groans, “I need you,”

“Gonna have to elaborate just a bit more.” Cid is all too aware of just how mean he’s being, but he can’t help it. Teasing his friend is simply too much fun.

He hadn’t really expected a response as he strokes himself, shifting to line up, but Vincent keens out a, “I need you to fuck me, Cid, please, take me. It’s been on my mind since that first night, all those weeks ago.”

Hearing such words in that velvety rich voice he’s become so in love with drives him up the wall. It’s impossible to bite back the groan, “fuck, Vinny, how can I refuse that?” He takes one sharp hipbone in his grip, his other hand lining him up properly to the dripping entrance.

Vincent’s breath catches in his lungs as he feels the tip of Cid’s cock slowly part his folds, an airy, hoarse sort of sound pushing out from his throat, throwing his head back. Sharp nails dig into the tanner skin of the blonde’s back, eliciting a gasp and his hips stutter, the first inch sliding into the warmth and slick so desperately trying to pull him in.

“Please,” he whines as he clings to a strong back, leveraging himself up so that he can bury his face in the crook of his neck, “Cid, please,”

“Patience, Vinny,” the blonde tells him before slowly moving his hips forwards, pushing further, and further, and further in, “gotta take this slow, I don’t wanna hurt you.” Cid drops his head to rest in the valley between the soft skin of his boyfriend’s chest, hands near crushingly gripping at slim hips. His own hips, finally, fully press against pale skin, now completely sheathed in the tight heat, they both let out groans of pleasure, the sounds intermingling.

Lifting his head, he shifts upwards to catch Vincent’s mouth with his own, pulling him into a heavy sort of kiss that leaves them both panting for breath. There’s the slightest twitch of his hips at some of the pleased noises escaping the raven’s vocal cords, and his breathing, already coming ragged, hitches and stutters.

“How do you feel?” Cid asks, peppering soft pecks across pale skin.

Collecting himself just enough to speak, he whispers out a weak “full,” and lets his head drop backwards against the comforter. Carefully, the blonde pulls a pillow forward and cradles his head, sliding the pillow beneath.

Vincent hums his thanks, crimson eyes baring into his blue ones. “Does that mean good?”

“Very,” he moans out, “please, move.”

He doesn’t need a to be asked any further, and instead starts to roll his hips, setting a slow, gentle pace that presses deep. It leaves Vincent writhing beneath him, trying desperately to get more friction, clenching wantonly around him as he leans up slightly to murmur hushed pleas into his ear.

Grunting, Cid presses his weight down against the slender frame under him, pinning him to cease his movements, and, when he doesn’t panic, he nudges his face into the space between his jaw and ear. “Tell me if anything hurts,” he says, and waits for confirmation he’s been understood before he pulls out so that just the very tip remains inserted. Weighed down as he is, Vincent can’t do much about it aside from stubbornly rolling his hips, though his boyfriend is quick to stop that as well by placing his calloused hands on pronounced hipbones once again, securing him in place.

“Cid, _please_ ,” the raven whines, though he isn’t left begging for much longer. With a controlled force, he makes one sudden, powerful thrust, burying himself to the hilt, and it leaves Vincent whimpering and moaning beneath him. The motion is repeated, again and again, setting a pace that borders on rough, but he doesn’t want to push too far too fast.

When he feels the other go slightly stiff beneath him, he worries that he’s hurt him, but then he feels him clenching down around him, and one heavy exhale against his shoulder. He doesn’t need to ask, he’s familiar enough with Vincent’s behavior by now to recognize what that was.

“Guess you do like it, huh?”

“S-stop teasing me.”

“Hm… you think you’re callin’ the shots here, do ya?” Cid slides one hand through heavy ebony locks, still damp, caressing the back of his head gently, before, without warning, he grabs a handful, wrenching Vincent’s head back. That pulls a moan from his lips, pleasant like music to his ears.

Without warning, he slips himself free, his boyfriend keening at the loss. “Switching positions is all, come on,” he pulls the raven towards the edge of the bed, rolling him over onto his stomach. It’s a bit surprising how well the other is taking to all the manhandling, letting himself be moved about as if he were a doll. “Let’s try this. You’re doing great, Vinny,” a kiss is placed to the back of his neck, where a little beauty mark rests, “it’s good enough for you too, right?”

“Of course,”

“Good.” Cid realigns himself, and pushes in, feeling Vincent press back against him. He’s quick to take another fistful of hair, arching his back, eliciting a sharp hissing sort of groan from deep in that velvety voice. A new pace is taken to, one that most may classify as brutal, but it leaves the raven clawing at the covers, writhing in pleasure as he moans and shifts beneath the weight of his boyfriend’s frame when he leans back down over him.

With a soft grunt, the blonde takes his unoccupied hand and runs one finger around the sensitive little clit, earning a new string of pleasured sounds. It’s not long after that until Vincent reaches his climax again, unable to hold back any longer with calloused fingers paying such unwavering attentions, and Cid gently lays his head back down to the pillow, rubbing the back of his head as he whispers sweet nothings into his ear.

He isn’t left like that for very long as, soon, he feels the once-methodical pace break into an erratic sort that leaves him quivering and shaking from oversensitivity before, suddenly, he feels a concentrated warmth flow into his center. It’s only after the blonde pulls free of him and goes to remove the condom does he realize what that had been. There’s very little opportunity for his brain to linger on it before Cid is climbing into bed, pulling him close, rolling his oversized shirt down his torso with soothing hands.

“Mm, I think I like seeing you in my clothes.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. Really showcases that you’re _mine_ ,” there’s a brief kiss to his lips, and then Cid rolls over to get the light, “plus, you just look cute in ‘em.” After a moment, he huffs, “man, I could use a cigarette. Can’t smoke ‘round the kids, so I ain’t had one today.”

“It can wait, can’t it?” Vincent asks, nuzzling his face into the blonde’s warm chest. “I don’t want you to leave, you’re so warm…”

“Well I suppose I did promise I’d always stay by your side, huh?”

Half a week later, they find themselves on an impromptu dinner date, Cid having managed to talk his boyfriend out of his apartment and into the world of typical folk. By 6:15, they’re set down for a nice meal at a table made for two, splitting a small appetizer. Chaos watches with rapt attention each time his owner brings food to his mouth, the man eventually holding a short cut of raw celery down for the dog as they chat back and forth.

“You know, I’ve been thinkin’,” begins the blonde, watching as the dog crunches contently on the vegetable, “I’ve got the money to pay rent, Rufus pays well, even if he is a pain in the ass. Might be time for me to stop freeloadin’ off Ma, but, you know, I ain’t ever lived alone before… having some company would be nice.”

Arching one thin brow, Vincent gives him a quick glance. “Are you asking what I believe you are?”

“Mmhm,”

“Cid, disability pays enough for me to live comfortably enough, but I fear I wouldn’t be much help in maintaining the rent of a nicer place.”

“I’m not worried about that. I am, however, worried ‘bout you,” he reaches across the table, takes a pale hand into his own, “I know you ain’t defenseless, and you like bein’ independent, but bein’ away from you makes me scared. I can’t help ya if I’m halfway across the city. ‘n’ we can get someplace close to your brother, you could see him more often!

“I couldn’t care less how much you make on disability; I’d cover all your expenses if I had to. I just want you happy, and within arm’s reach. If that’s a crime, I’d happily be locked up. I’ve already been lookin’ into places, stuff close to colleges, and there’s some good places for good prices. Whaddya say, Vinny?”

“Might I give it more thought? It’s a… rather large step. As I’m sure you know, I’m rather bad with change,” crimson eyes sweep the restaurant, though it’s not a panicked sort of look, “but I suppose I have settled well enough into all of the changes you’ve brought me. If someone had told me a few weeks or months ago that I’d be sitting in plain view at a restaurant, I would have laughed.”

“You can give it all the thought you need. Talk to Sephiroth if you need to.” Cid leans back, taking his cup, “though, he may try to convince you _not_ to…”

Rolling his eyes, Vincent reaches for his own glass. “He doesn’t hate you as much as you think. I feel that he’s merely jealous of you.”

It’s the blonde’s turn to arch one brow. “Jealous?” He scoffs. “Of what?”

“That you’re so close with me. It’s been just the two of us for about a decade now. I’ve been caring for him after our father died, though he had to care for me just as much, considering I was still recovering.”

“You know, I don’t think I even know what happened,”

Drawing a shaking breath, he goes to take a short sip before setting the cup back to the table. “When I was fifteen, Halloween night, I had gone to a party at my high school. I’d wanted so desperately to fit in, I tried to grin and bear it, even though I was frightened out of my mind. A storm had started to roll in, however, a blizzard, and the school called the dance to a close early, had everyone’s parents come to pick us up.

“We lived on the outskirts of the town I grew up in, and had to take a lot of back roads. Through the ice and snow, we missed a frozen patch on the road. My father lost control of the car. I don’t remember anything else from that night, but, when I woke up it was in the hospital. I was told the very same day he’d… he hadn’t made it out.”

Cid doesn’t know what to say to that. What is he mean to? _I’m sorry_? _It’s hard to lose someone_? Vincent has probably heard every line in the goddamn book, hundreds of times over. He knew he had, after his Pa had died, and then his brother years later.

So, instead, he merely reaches his hand out, palm outstretched. The gesture is accepted when a bony hand is placed into his waiting palm, and he raises Vincent’s knuckles to his lips, kissing gently.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Their conversation is cut short by the delivery of their meals, the waitress eying Vincent in a way that makes Cid bristle with a jealous sort of look in his eyes. Can she not see they’re on a date? But rather than cause a scene, he lets himself be distracted by his boyfriend moving to take a slim-cut carrot from his plate, spearing it with a fork to avoid getting the balsamic glaze on his fingers.

“It was awfully nice of you to find a vegetarian restaurant like this,” his boyfriend says after the woman leaves them to themselves again, “I know how difficult it can be to look around for such places.”

Such meals usually weren’t much Cid’s style, but he did have to admit several meals that the raven had cooked before for him were rather good. “Of course. Besides, I’d feel bad if we ended up goin’ someplace you can’t get anything from. Good to have a place in mind for the future.”

Eventually, their chat divulges as another couple is seated at the table beside them. For a moment, Cid catches eyes with the young girl taking her seat, who looks from him, to Chaos, reading his vest, and then to his boyfriend, before simply giving a polite smile. At least she’d been nice about it, rather than the often cruel stares he’d find directed their way.

Vincent, if he had noticed her, stays calm, though he does urge the shepherd to move a bit closer to their own table, rather than in the small isle between theirs and the other couple’s. “I do have to say, Cid, my brother may warm up to you best if you offer him the chance.”

“Ugh, back to this? I’ll give him a chance, if you want, but if he keeps bein’ a dick, then it’s fair game.”

“All I can ask is that the both of you try.” Speak of the devil, the taller man’s phone vibrates against the table, and he goes to get it, finding that it’s his brother inquiring about Thanksgiving plans. “He always seems to know when I’m thinking of him. He’s wondering what we have in mind for this Thursday.”

“Well, my family’s getting back together, though there’ll be way less of us this time. But I’m sure Ma wouldn’t mind if I spent the holiday with you. Though I think the kiddies might miss ya and Chaos.” Cid thinks it over a bit further as he takes a bite of his food, “but if you wanna spend it with your brother instead, by all means.”

“What if we spent it together?”

“Just the three of us?” A grimace sets to the blonde’s face.

“No, I mean… would your family mind if my brother were to join?” Vincent looks nervous as he asks. “I don’t wish to impose.”

“Oh! Vinny, of course. I’d rather have witnesses around if Sephiroth will be there, anyways.” His tone is jovial.

Accompanied by a short huff, the raven says, “you act as if he’s going to kill you while your back is turned. He’s all bark, Cid. I’ve never known him to hurt anyone, at least, not since we moved here.” There’s a soft, inquiring _oh_? “He used to get in fistfights in high school, but that’s beside the point.”

Cid leans back in his chair with a boisterous sort of laugh. “Really? _Sephiroth_ used to be scrappin’ behind the gym or somethin’?”

“ _I_ used to get in fistfights. Fiery tempers are a family trait, it seems.”

“ _You_? No way! You gotta be pullin’ my leg. I can’t even imagine you angry, let alone fighting.”

“I also used to enjoy going to shooting ranges,” he moves the remainder of his left arm, rotating his shoulder slightly, “but that’s rather difficult now. I fear the recoil would likely knock me over.”

“With how skinny you are, I don’t doubt that.” That earns him a playful sort of pout, though Vincent goes to continue eating. “But if Sephiroth wants to come with us, then I guess I can’t stop him. Just don’t leave me alone with him. I don’t wanna find out how mean that right hook is.”

“He’s left-handed actually,”

“Eh, whatever. I’m gonna head out for a smoke.” Pushing out his chair, he reaches into his coat pocket, slung over the back of the chair, and draws his brows together when he finds just the lighter. “Shit, where could’ve it gotten to?”

“Check the car, but we can get you a new pack if it’s gone.”

“The issue is the metal case they’re in. That was my pa’s,” running his hands through his hair, the blonde shrugs his jacket on, setting his wallet next to Vincent, “I’m gonna check the car, mind payin’ for me when you’re finished up?”

A curt nod is his answer, and Cid goes to leave, stepping out onto the sidewalk and starts headed towards the parking lot. Unlocking the doors to his car, he pulls the driver side open and crouches down, using his phone’s flashlight to look for the metal case. No such luck.

“No sign of it, chief?” Vincent asks as he walks up behind him, passing his wallet down. He’s still looking around his car seat when he arrives, searching high and low. When he receives a small _no_ in reply, he says, “perhaps you left it at home?”

Opening the back door, he urges Chaos into the backseat, though he’s quick to notice something on the floor shining in the light from the parking lot lamps. “Or, perhaps you merely aren’t looking close enough,” the raven leans down to pick it up, and hands it over with his wallet, “it’s that important to you?”

“Yeah,” both items are taken from his hand with a gentle grasp, “he gave it to me a year or so before he passed. Kinda like havin’ a piece of him with me at all times, you know? Sorry for the panic.”

“It’s quite alright.”

Once they’re both settled in the car, and they’re leaving the lot, Cid glances his way. “Do you have anything of your dad’s?”

“There’s a few books, and I kept his favorite overcoat, but that’s about it. He didn’t keep many possessions. Though, I also have my mother’s engagement ring. Sephiroth has Father’s wedding ring. If I recall correctly, he keeps it on a necklace chain, and doesn’t like to remove it from his person.”

“Is that so? Wonder if anyone’s mistaken him for being married then. Imagine. He’d probably die of embarrassment.”

“Truly, it doesn’t look like much of a wedding ring. It’s a simple black band, engraved on the inside with the year they’d gotten married, but it’s a far cry from the traditional golden ring. I doubt most people give it much thought.”

“Your family sure does like to be different, huh?”

Vincent looks at him, a tender expression on his features. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Much to everyone’s surprise, Thanksgiving passes amicably, the worst of it being a few heated arguments between the eldest Highwind son and the younger Valentine brother. Though such things were to be expected, considering Cid’s spitfire tendencies, but Vincent was always quick to assuage them, often by dragging one away to calm them with soft words.

The children had also seemed to recall their uncle’s new boyfriend from the week prior, as well as his dog. After finding the raven settled on the couch at a twisted sort of angle with one of his younger nieces sat in his lap, babbling animatedly at him, her older sister braiding his long black hair, Cid had immediately been set to a better mood, making it so that even Sephiroth couldn’t bring him down. As his family had been leaving, he’d caught a few of the kids saying that they rather liked their “new uncle”. Though embarrassed, Vincent had been left with a burning sense of pride over it.

Three weeks later, the both of them are settling into their new home, the raven carrying as much as he could manage beneath one arm as Sephiroth, and Cid maneuver a couch about in the living room. He sets the items on the kitchen counter while their bickering fills the house as the silver-haired man insists that, no, the couch would not look best against the wall, it would leave too much empty space in the center of the room, even with the coffee table.

“Just listen to him, Cid,” Vincent hears one of his brother’s friends say, “there’s no winning against him. Also, he’s completely correct.”

“Genesis, don’t inflate his ego. That’s the last thing we need today.” Another of his friends calls from the bedroom, where he and their final guest are constructing a bedframe.

“Rather impressive the both of you were able to manage getting a townhouse,” the reddened brunette says as he turns to the older man, “I imagine Rufus struck up an impressive deal for you.”

“Yes. He said it was the least he could do for Cid’s continued help.”

“Plus, makes him look nicer,” the younger of the duo in the bedroom says, “I bet his reputation is gonna look awfully swell if any of this gets publicity. I can see the headlines now. _Up-and-Coming, Young Businessman Rewards Employee’s Loyalty with New House,_ ow! Ang, don’t hit me!”

“I highly doubt Rufus would do this for merely the publicity. Be polite, Zack.”

“Lively bunch,” Vincent says to Genesis, who merely snorts in response. “I’m going to get my dog, let him settle in. Do you mind…”

He doesn’t even have to finish asking before the younger man is stepping away, retrieving a packaged baby gate, going to set it up in the archway into the living room. Chaos is easily collected from the fenced-in yard where he’d been sitting on the patio, waiting patiently since they’d arrived. Vincent hooks his lead into place and guides him towards the entryway to the kitchen, where he finds Zack standing in front of the baby gate, stroking his chin. Genesis rolls his eyes, and opens the gate.

“Ohh,” says the youngest man, who slips through ahead of the dog and his owner. “Just needed to grab a drink. Who knew putting together a bedframe would be such hard work? Wait, Genny, are you just standing around?”

“I’m managing.”

“He’s being a menace, that’s what he’s doing,” calls Sephiroth, who’s now assisting in the moving of a recliner. “Genesis, we all need to pitch in. Find something useful to do.”

“I put up a gate! Besides, your brother isn’t helping.” When Vincent waves his left bicep at him in response, the reddened brunette flushes. “Right, right… Angie, would you like some help in there?”

“Please,”

Chaos is given a fresh, clean bowl of food and water, set down against a lower cabinet and, as he eats, the raven runs a hand down his back. He seems unbothered by the change of scenery or the commotion, so Vincent goes to leave, merely lifting one leg over the gate. Cid has plopped himself down onto the couch as the silver-haired man repositions the coffee table on the rug.

Blue eyes look towards him as he enters the living room. “What’re we meant to do with the space behind us, then?”

“Hm. How about a bookcase and a two-seater table? I can sit and write or read there, and still be in the same room with you.”

“…okay.” Vincent rolls his eyes and leans down, brushing his boyfriend’s hair from his forehead to place a kiss there instead. “I’ll admit Sephiroth had a good idea, but just this once. Don’t go gettin’ used to it or nothin’.”

“Infuriating little-”

“Sephiroth, please,” the elder brother sets his hand on one shoulder, “why don’t you help Zack? He seems to be stuck again.” Glancing to the living room, they both lock eyes with the man, standing there with his hand on the back of his head.

He laughs, gesturing down to the baby gate, “these things are kinda tricky, huh?”

As their youngest guest is freed from his confines, Vincent takes a seat next to his boyfriend, drawing his knees to his chest. “Don’t let him get to you so easily,” he says as he leans his weight against the blonde, watching as his brother and friend go to retrieve the next thing from the back of the moving truck, “he’ll eventually learn to not mess with you.”

“And I thought _my_ little brothers were annoying… I think they’re going to get the tv hutch, lemme go help.” Cid places a kiss to the crown of his head and lifts him up enough to slide free from the couch. “Sorry there ain’t much for you to do yet.”

“Oh, it’s fine. There’ll be plenty in the next few days.”

Once the bedframe is finished, their mattress is set down upon it, and other bedroom furniture begins to be placed around the room. Two end tables, a dresser, a blanket chest at the foot of the bed… It’s really starting to look rather homey. As Vincent tucks a set of sheets onto the bed, out in the other room he hears Angeal shoo Zack aside as he goes to slide the television into the hutch.

It doesn’t take much longer for them to finish up for the day, the dining table and chairs the final things to be set into place. They’re quick to christen the new kitchen with their first meal in it, and what better way to end the strenuous day than with a nice meal among friends and family? Once they’ve eaten and said their goodbyes, Cid sweeps Vincent, literally, off his feet, drawing him into his arms.

“So, now that we’re alone… whaddya say we break in that new bed, huh?”

Vincent merely blushes and buries his face in his boyfriend’s chest.

It’s a borderline brutal sort of pace Cid sets, but, at least, if the moans slipping wantonly from Vincent’s lips are anything to go by, the raven is certainly enjoying it. He clutches tightly at the covers as his hips are held firmly in place, his body flat against the mattress, stomach down, pressed beneath his boyfriend’s weight, each heavy thrust sending a new wave of pleasure over him until, finally, it’s too much to bear.

As he clenches down, instinctively, the blonde slows his pace, letting him ride out his climax with gentle movements. He’s shaking from overstimulation still when Cid catches his attention, and he gives a drowsy sort of nod, before the former pace returns, though only for a short burst before his boyfriend, as well, meets his release.

Vincent keens when he feels a slick heat pool into his core, whimpering soon after as that thick cock slips free from him, leaving him clenching down on nothing as warm cum drips from him.

“You okay?” He feels a set of calloused hands on his shoulders, before one continues up and clasps over one cheek, tilting his face upwards for a kiss. Nodding briskly to confirm that he is, in fact, fine, Cid releases his hold and slides off the bed, headed into the bathroom attached to the master bedroom.

Eyes fluttering shut, Vincent pulls his pillow closer, lifting his head just enough that he can place it down on top, sighing. He hears Cid return to the bed before he feels him, “don’t lemme scare ya,” and he gently runs a warm washcloth over him, wicking away any leftover fluids. “Still alright?”

“Mm, it’s merely been a long day…”

“I hear ya,” slipping his hands and arms around his boyfriend, he lifts him up, pulling him closer so that he’s lying on top of him, putting the pillow back beneath his head. “Sorry we kept you up all day, babe,” he kisses the space between his brows, earning a soft hum, “are you gonna sleep now or stay up?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Vincent moves to pull the covers atop them, eyes heavy, “how long will you be up?”

“Uh,” Cid checks the time, “another hour or so. Wanna watch a movie? Or put on that show you like?”

“Sure,”

By the morning, as Cid wakes for work, he finds his boyfriend is curled up, by his side, knees tucked to his chest, right arm wrapped around his left. He hates to have to pull away, but Rufus always has somewhere to be, and so, as he gently takes his own arm back, he pulls the covers higher on Vincent’s cold frame, placing a gentle kiss to the side of his face.

“I’ll be home by six,” he whispers, running a hand along long, ebony strands of hair, knowing full well he’s not being heard, “don’t wait up for me, Vinny.”

That’s the sort of schedule they switch into, Cid leaving by mid-morning to drive his employer around, and returning home by the time his boyfriend was rousing from his slumber. They’d share a dinner, and spend their evening hours together, watching tv or merely enjoying one another’s company in silence. Sometimes one or the other would initiate a more intimate turn of events, but they were always sure to get Cid proper sleep, even on nights that Vincent was feeling particularly frisky.

But one evening, as Vincent sits in the living room, Chaos in his lap after having noticed it’s an hour past his boyfriend’s usual return, with no text either, he can’t help but worry. Suddenly, there’s a knock to the door, and he hurries to his feet, hoping that it’s just that Cid had forgotten his keys and had lost his phone in the car. 

The door swings open to reveal Sephiroth, standing there with a worried sort of expression. “What’s wrong?” He manages to ask, though his brother merely steps inside the house. “Seph? Please, what’s wrong?”

“Grab your keys and phone, and I believe Chaos will have to stay here,”

“Why? Sephiroth, you’re scaring me.” Worry is blossoming in his chest, like a morbid sort of flower, and it catches in his ribcage, swirling in a place that feels empty.

Drawing a shaky breath, the silver-haired man steels himself. “We have to go the hospital. Rufus just messaged me.” As he speaks, he watches his older brother’s eyes go wide, and can see the panic spread across him, like a frost on the pane of a window. “There was… an accident. I’m unsure how bad it was, but both him and Cid were taken to the hospital.”

“No,” Vincent takes one step back, and then another, “no, no, no,”

“Vincent, please don’t shut down on me.”

He’s about to collapse, Sephiroth can tell by the way his body draws in on itself, so he slips one arm around him. That seems to ground him enough he can motion towards the living room, where he finds his phone. Slipping it into his pocket, the younger Valentine sets him down on the couch, and heads to where he knows the keys are kept, grabbing his brother’s coat on the way.

“Come,” helping him back to his feet, the silver-haired man leads him towards the door once again, Chaos whining as he follows behind, “put on your shoes.” As his brothers slips his shoes on, Sephiroth leans down to pat the dog. “Sorry boy, but I don’t think they’ll let you where we’re headed.”

Vincent seems all the more horrified when Sephiroth slips him into the car. “I’ll go slow,” he promises, “you’ll be okay. Just trust me.” True to his word, he drives towards the hospital at a glacial, controlled pace, and it doesn’t take very long to reach the parking lot, though he’s sure it feels like an eternity to the raven.

It’s a bit of a fight to get into Cid’s room, considering they’re not family, technically, and they have to wait quite some time, even after the younger drops his name, but when they eventually manage, Vincent can’t bring himself to step in. “Sephiroth,” he wraps his hand around his brother’s, “can you go in first?”

“Of course,” he breaks away to step in, finding that the blonde is sitting alone in the room, an IV leading to his right hand. Scrapes and cuts line his features and the visible portions of his arms, and his left arm is pulled into a sling. One brow has what appears to be stitches above and through it, and his bottom lip is bruised and split. Tentatively, Sephiroth clears his throat, prompting blue eyes to open.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Cid asks, swift, and with a bit more venom than he’d expected.

“Rufus told me what happened. How do you feel?” Blue eyes turn cooler at the information, and he visibly watches his shoulders relax.

“Like I got hit by a car.” He spits, though with less anger than before. “Where’s Vinny?”

“Right outside. He was… he’s scared to see you, unsure of how injured you may be.” When the blonde merely motions for him to go and retrieve his brother, he’s quick to oblige. Vincent looks so small, panicked as he is, but when his eyes meet his boyfriend’s, and he sees he’s not dying, he brightens significantly.

Cid straightens up as best he can. “Hey baby,” he says, smiling softly, “don’t hover by the door, get over here. It’s really not as bad as it looks. I’ll be back to my annoyin’ self before you know it. My car, though? I fear she’s won’t be walkin’ it off as easy.”

Carefully, mindful of the IV needle in his hand, he takes a paler one into his hand, and pulls his boyfriend a bit closer, leaning up to catch his lips. Vincent jumps away with a hurry he’s never seen before, “what’s wrong?”

“There’s… blood on your lip,” the raven says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Ah. ‘m sorry, Vinny. Must’ve hit my mouth. Didn’t take you for the squeamish type, least not that bad.” There’s a soft knock to the open door, catching their attentions to the arriving doctor. He’s a stout little man, with round glasses, and a black mustache.

“Forgive me for the interruption,” the doctor says as he steps in, “I’m Doctor Gast, and you two are…?”

“Sephiroth and Vincent Valentine. My brother is dating Cid, I’m merely moral support.”

“Thanks, Seph.” Growls the blonde, “glad to have you here, too.”

“Come now, don’t be like that, and let the kind doctor speak. How is he?”

Gast walks further into the room, pulling out a chair for Vincent to sit on rather than stand nervously by his boyfriend’s side. “The worst of it is a fractured wrist and bruised ribs. You and your friend were very lucky, young man. Everything else is simple scrapes and bruises, but we’ll keep you overnight for observation.”

“He’s… going to be fine?” Comes the delicate, uncertain question, pale fingers wringing against a red coat sleeve.

“Yes, he’ll be fine.” Vincent lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “There’s no sign of a concussion, or even whiplash.”

“Are the other people okay? Can you say that much?” Asks Cid as he brushes his hand through ebony locks.

“They both survived. The driver admitted it was his fault. Again, you’re lucky. Usually head-on collisions happen at a much higher speed, for both sides to walk away with the worst injury being a broken leg…”

Sephiroth straightens slightly, and turns his attention to the doctor. “Was it Rufus broke his leg?” His answer comes in the form of a short nod. “Oh, he’s going to have fun recovering from that. Might I visit my friend while I’m here?”

“Of course.” Gast leads the younger Valentine away, and down the hall, leaving the couple alone.

Vincent shifts from the awkward silence that overtakes them after their departure, and goes to take his boyfriend’s hand again. “A broken wrist, hm? I suppose we’ll be close to matching for a short bit.”

Cid moves to look him in the eyes, a stern expression on his face. Under his gaze, the raven looks so much more nervous, and he manages to lessen his features into a less serious sort, though he says, “I need you to listen to me. This is a real talk, no jokes.”

“What’s… you’re not breaking up with me, are you?”

“I said no jokes, Vinny. Here, come closer.” He sets his hand, still intertwined with a paler one, on his boyfriend’s lap, and locks eyes with him once again, brows furrowed. “For a minute there, I was horrified I was gonna go ‘n’ leave ya all alone. Made me realize somethin’, and I’m sorry if I’m movin’ too fast for you-”

“I don’t understand.”

“Vincent, lemme talk and you will.” There’s a muttered apology in return, and Cid shakes his head, leaning up to place a kiss to a cold cheek. “You can say no to me, I won’t be upset, but… I realized right then, thinkin’ I might be dyin’, that I didn’t want no one else, and I don’t want no one else to ever have you. So…

“I guess it ain’t too official, I ain’t got no ring or nothin’, but… Vinny, baby, will you make me the happiest damn man on this planet, and… and marry me? It could be tomorrow, or decades from now, but… hey, why’re you cryin’?”

Before him, the taller man has hunched over slightly, taking his hand, still wrapped with a warmer one, to his face, putting them both against his forehead. Tears flow from his eyes, unbridled, and he manages, a hoarse “you really mean it?”

“Of course,” he takes his hand away to gently wipe away a few rolling teardrops, “why would I lie to you?”

Sniffling, the raven nods his head softly in return, “yes,” he says, hushed, “how could I say anything but yes? I love you, so very much, of course I’ll marry you.”

“I’m glad. But you gotta tell your brother. I ain’t gonna be the one to do it, he’ll kill me.”

Vincent manages an ugly sort of sobbing laugh, hiccupping, and broken from the tears. Cid merely pulls him closer, resting his head below his sling. “Will you stay with your brother until I come home? Just so I know you’re safe?”

“Of course.” A gentle kiss is set to black hair, “just please get better quickly…”

Their first Christmas together is a strange one, considering Cid is two days out of the hospital, and it’s just the two of them thus far. He spends half the day in bed, lying on his back, watching the tv placed on their dresser, just waiting for his fiancé to wake up. Chaos comes searching about half past four, climbing up to join them on the mattress, nuzzling his nose into the blonde’s palm when he holds it out.

“Hey boy,” he’d been pleasantly surprised to learn that the dog gets gifts on the holiday, “you waitin’ to get your presents?” Chaos wags his tail, whining softly as he lays down on his side and wiggles upwards, pulling himself with his paws. What a silly creature.

It appears that the commotion is enough to wake the light sleeper that is Vincent Valentine, his arm stretching out over his head as he hums. “Chaos, what’re you doing, boy?” He asks, reaching behind himself to pet the dog, who rises to his feet, lapping at the raven’s pale face. “Stop that, you ridiculous dog,” he says between laughs, Chaos does as told, and hops over him to climb off the bed.

Rolling over, Vincent places himself against his fiancé’s side, nudging his nose into the crook of his neck. “How do you feel?”

“Pretty good, all things considered,” his right leg swings over a slender hip, and he turns himself onto his side as best he can with a casted left arm, sliding his free hand along the raven’s pale torso and up to his chest, “though I can think of a couple things that’ll cheer me up.”

“You’ve bruised ribs, and you want to have sex?”

Cid sighs, leaning his head into his pillow. “I gotta teach you how to ride me,” porcelain-pale cheeks turn rosy at his words, drawing a devious smirk from him, “then I can let you do all the work, ‘n’ we don’t have to worry ‘bout my bruised ribs.”

“Incorrigible, absolutely horrible, terribly abysmal…”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Vincent bonks their foreheads together before he goes to rise, “hey, get back here, I didn’t get no morning kiss.”

Rolling his eyes, the raven leans forward and gently brushes their lips together, careful to avoid the healing cut on Cid’s bottom lip. He escapes after that, too quick for the blonde to catch as he slips from the bedroom and into the living room, finding the dog sitting patiently by the tree.

“Why’re you so scared of a little blood, anyways?” Inquires his fiancé as he walks into the kitchen, filling a kettle with water. “I mean, you’re allowed to be, I’m just curious.”

Vincent pours a scoop of food into the dog’s bowl, and passes the water dish up to the blonde for him to refill. “I’ve mentioned once or twice before that I get nightmares from time-to-time, haven’t I?” When he receives a nod in return, he continues, “sometimes I wake up feeling as if they were real, and it takes me a few moments to recover. I’ve tasted blood from it before, like I’d eaten something alive, and the thought of it…”

“I see. Sounds pretty scary.”

“They’re just nightmares. No rhyme or reason.”

One arm slips around his waist, pulling him flush against a shorter but wider frame, “what happens in ‘em? Just scary stuff you can’t quite recall?”

“Not fully, at least. I just wake up, aching and hurting, though the most I’ve ever remembered was… feeling suspended in a weightless state, like I was floating, and I could hear a man’s voice, talking to me, but I can’t remember what he told me. I merely know I hate that voice.” As he speaks, his voice becomes quieter and quieter until he’s speaking at hardly even a whisper. Cid nudges his face into his shoulder and hums.

“It’s okay, babe. I’d fight your nightmares if I could.” That earns a soft laugh, and the hold to his waist is gone. “When’ll your brother be here? Six, yeah? That gives, what, ‘bout an hour and a half? What do you think we could do in that time?”

“Depends on a few factors. Just how serious were you before? About teaching me a certain position?”

“Ohh, I thought I was incorrigible a ‘n’ horrible ‘n’-”

“You know what? Never mind.”

“Don’t be like that, Vinny, come on…”

Vincent continues to prove to be a quick study, and they’re both still lying in the afterglow when there’s a knock to the door. Both of them jolt to their senses, Cid pulling his pants into place as his fiancé slips into the restroom.

“I got it,” he says as he opens the bedroom door, nearly tripping over the dog who rushes past to wait at the front door, shifting from front foot to front foot in excitement. Pulling the door open reveals Sephiroth, who immediately scowls when he comes face-to-face with his in-law-to-be. “Heya,” Cid says as he steps aside, “watch the dog. He’s full of energy today.”

“Has he been getting enough exercise?” Questions the silver-haired man, who leans down to run his hands through Chaos’s fur as he slips his shoes off, though he stops momentarily to pass a bag of wrapped gifts into the other man’s arm.

“That’s a question for your brother. I shouldn’t be walkin’ him like this, but I think he’s been stayin’ in more lately ‘cause’a me.”

Nodding, the younger man passes him by. “I can look into arranging a dog walker until you’ve recovered if you would like. I’d hate for him to not be getting the proper care he needs, though it’s no fault of either of you. Things happen.”

“I’m sure Vinny would appreciate that.”

“Speaking of my brother, quickly, before he comes to join us,” Sephiroth guides him by the uninjured arm into the kitchen, where they’re better in private. Cid watches him, confused, as he reaches up and unclasps something from around his neck, and takes the shorter man’s hand, slipping it into his palm. Holding it closer, the blonde takes a look.

Hanging off the chain is a dark-steel ring, just a simple band, and, upon closer inspection, he spots a date engraved on the inside. It’s then that he realizes what he’s been given, and looks up at the other man, surprised.

“Give that to him. I know you haven’t picked a ring out yet, and, this way, he’ll know you also have my blessing.”

“But… this was your father’s. Won’t you miss it?”

Sephiroth shakes his head. “It’ll be more worth it to see him happy. Besides, I have a few other things of his. He would’ve wanted it this way.” After a moment of silence, the blonde staring down at the ring in surprise, the silver-haired man clears his throat and awkwardly says, “he would have liked you, you know. You’re smart, and you make Vincent happy.”

“Thank you,” Cid nudges his arm with his own, “you’re not half bad, Seph.”

“No.”

Cringing, the blonde nods, “gotcha, gotcha. No nicknames yet.”

Vincent is soon to find them in the kitchen, and his fiancé quickly hides the ring in his pocket, before they all head to the living room, settling down on the couch. Sephiroth draws a small box from his tote bag of gifts, one that’s covered in paper with pawprints, and he undoes the wrapping as Chaos watches him, tail wagging. He sets it down, lifting the lid off, and the dog sniffs around it before he reaches in with his mouth, finding a brand-new ball inside, which he’s quick to drop to the floor and roll next to, chewing from every angle.

Cid can’t help but laugh. “Man, you guys go all out for him, huh?”

“He’s an integral part of this family.” Sephiroth replies, tone dead serious.

“It’s cute,” but whatever else he had to say is cut short by a giftbox being set into his lap, and the same can be said for Vincent. “Oh, thanks,”

They continue like that for a while, passing gifts among themselves as Chaos plays with his newest toys. At one point, the shepherd is gifted with a dog treat that’s made up to look like a cupcake, and seems to lose his mind over it. Vincent takes a video of him, his brother’s uncontrollable laugher in the background.

After a bit, every gift has been opened, a bag of trash set aside on the floor, but there’s one final present to be had. Cid shifts, rising from the couch to stand in front of Vincent, the raven watching him with an arched brow.

“Yes?”

“Now, I know I’ve already asked ya, ‘n’ you’ve said yes, and yadda yadda, but…” The blonde drops himself down in front of his fiancé, “close your eyes for me,” and once those beautiful crimson eyes shut, he slides the necklace in place, “there.”

Vincent reopens his eyes, looking down to see Cid’s hand holding the necklace’s adornment in his palm for him to see. When he realizes what it is, his breath hitches, and he glances over to his brother, who merely nods in response.

“Oh, Cid,” he cries, throwing his arm around his shoulders, careful to not pull on his injuries, and slips to the floor in front of him to hold him closer, “thank you. You as well, Sephiroth. Thank you for giving this to him.”

“Of course.” Clapping his hands together, the youngest man stands from his seat. “Now, what say you two to dinner at my friend’s apartment? I know it’s rather last minute, but then you two don’t have to worry about cooking.”

That night, lying in bed, while lying in the blonde’s warm embrace, Vincent tilts his head up, and catches his lips with his own, his father’s ring clutched tight in his palm. “Yes?” Cid asks, looking down at him. “Do you need something?”

He swears that his fiancé’s eyes glow in the darkness, but he pushes that thought aside as the pale man sits up in their bed, reaching to pet the dog between their legs.

“I’m so very glad I met you,” says that rich, velvet voice that he cherishes so fiercely, low and hushed as if he were afraid the whole world was listening, “I could have never asked for anyone so wonderful by my side. When Sephiroth had told me you’d become injured, I was terrified that I would come to find you gone, that my string of bad luck had finally taken its next victim from me.

“Thank you, Cid, for all that you’ve done for me, for every way that you’ve changed my life for the better. I know some will call us fools, rushing into this like we did, but I’ve never once been surer of anything than I have been with you.”

Sitting up with a wince, the blonde takes his fiancé’s hand into his own, rubbing small circles with his thumb. “I understand completely, babe. I was engaged once before, you know? And the whole time I was always questionin’ _is this right_? _Is this gonna turn out okay_? _Do I really love her_?

“I shoulda called it quits long before I did, shoulda seen it coming ‘n’ not have been so dumb and blindsided. But this whole time? It’s just always been how much I fuckin’ love ya, and can’t get enough of ya. And it ain’t just that _honeymoon_ period. I always had doubts with Shera, but I ain’t got none with you, except how I can keep you happiest.”

“Even knowing I’m not… the most mentally well individual?”

“I don’t care ‘bout that. Vinny, I love ya, every flaw included. Ain’t no anxiety or PTSD, or even missin’ limbs, is gonna keep me from lovin’ ya with every fiber of my being. You’re the one for me.”

“And you, for me.”

They both lean forward, gently knocking their foreheads together with a soft sort of thud that’s more in their heads than anything.

“It’s all of your perfections _and_ flaws that make you, well, _you_ , Vincent. How could I not love everythin’ about you?”

Gently, their lips brush together, and, for once, when he catches the metallic tang of blood from Cid’s healing lower lip, he doesn’t flinch.

“Ma invited us over for dinner tomorrow. I’m gonna tell her the news then.”

“Is that so?”

“She might get excited ‘bout grandbabies, but don’t let her get your head.”

Vincent laughs, “right now you, Chaos, and my brother are all I need, but maybe one day that’ll change.”

Cid chokes and splutters, pulling away, with a startled, “you’re serious? I never thought you’d go for it, was thinkin’ you wouldn’t be comfortable havin’ a kid of your own.”

“We can always adopt, but that’s a problem for future us. Right now, let’s focus on getting you through recovery, and then through college. Baby steps. Er, no pun intended.”

Chuckling, the blonde leans himself back in, and slips his arm around his fiancé’s waist, pulling him down to the bed with him. “Vinny, you got a hold on me like nicotine, but I think I’d take you over a smoke any day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zack is baby, that is all.
> 
> For anyone who read this longwinded thing all the way! Thank you!! Please leave comments, and kudos, I worked so hard on this! 
> 
> Ask questions! Tell me what you liked! And, most importantly, should the next installment be centric around Sephiroth, Tseng, or Reno?


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